Gifts
by Sisimka
Summary: Aedan and Oghren travel to Orzammar to get a wedding gift for Alistair. Rated M for violence. Not fluffy, don't let that first chapter fool you! I've marked this as a Cousland/Leliana piece as it continues the story started in my previous fictions.
1. Chapter 1

_Once again, thanks to Bioware for allowing us to use their characters. This story is set about two years post Origins. It features a few of the characters from my story 'The Hero of Ferelden'. If you have not read that one, here's what you need to know: Aedan and Leliana are married and have two sons. Riordan is their natural son and Luke is their adopted son. Aedan is Warden Commander of Ferelden. Alistair is King of Ferelden. Oghren is the Commander of his armies. Ferelden had nearly a dozen Grey Wardens recruited in 'Hero', those that may appear in this story are: Philippe (Senior Warden), Eric, Rolf, Taren, Yrisa and Kayley (Zevran's love interest)._

* * *

Chapter One

Aedan crouched down and held out his arms, a wide grin splitting his face as Riordan tottered toward him across the floor. His son was walking! He felt he would never tire of watching those sturdy little legs step towards him. Riordan's brow alternately furrowed with concentration then lifted in delight as each step gained ground and he remained upright. His arms were stretched toward Aedan and he gathered the boy up and hugged the wriggling body to his chest, dropping kisses across the top of the thick black hair that adorned Riordan's head.

"I can start teaching him forms soon," he informed Leliana proudly.

Leliana laughed musically and then scoffed, waving a hand at them, "You are not to give that boy a sword until he is at least…" she paused to think, "Five?"

Aedan laughed at the thought of his eleven month old son lurching about with a big wooden practice sword and hugged him all over again. Having a child delighted him in ways he'd never anticipated. He remembered well the days when Fergus's son had been an unfathomable being, a smelly ball of furiously noisy babe that had caused them all many sleepless nights. Riordan had given them no such trouble, but even if he had not been the placid and sweet infant he was, Aedan knew he would have loved his child regardless.

He had seen too little of his family of late, and every time he returned from Amaranthine he worried that his son wouldn't remember him, but the boy was now relaxed and comfortable in his arms. The small face turned towards his own and regarded him with the most serious expression, as if to say, 'Don't worry, I know who you are...'

Aedan looked into those familiar eyes. Though Riordan favoured him, had his hair and would probably develop his nose, he had Leliana's deep blue eyes, not his own cool blue ones, a combination Aedan was more than pleased with. After bestowing that serious little face with yet another kiss, he set his son on the floor and watched as Leliana beckoned him, sighing with contentment as the feat of walking across the room was accomplished all over again.

"You say he only started yesterday?" he asked as Leliana gathered up the wobbling little boy and set him astride her hip. She looked as at ease with a child at her hip as she had done with a blade and it stunned him when he considered the various facets of his wife. He often wondered if all women were able to take on so many roles as naturally as this. His mother certainly had.

Leliana was walking toward him as she answered, "Just yesterday, you almost missed it." She looked a little wistful as she reached up to caress Aedan's cheek.

Aedan captured her fingers and brought them to his lips, endowing them with a soft kiss before drawing her forward, taking his wife and his son into the circle of his arms. He kissed her ear and whispered softly, "I'm sorry, my love."

He knew she understood his duty to protect Ferelden from the darkspawn threat, but it did not make their frequent and continued separations any easier. He had arrived in Denerim late last night and tomorrow morning he and Oghren would leave for Orzammar. One day, he had only one day with his family.

Leliana replied, "Shh, let's make the most of the time we have."

Aedan relinquished his hold on them and Leliana lifted her face to his for a kiss. Aedan happily complied and would have stood there all day had Riordan not had other ideas. A small hand interjected itself between them and they pulled apart with a chuckle.

Leliana took the break to ask, "Tell me again why you have to go with Oghren to Orzammar…" her tone was interested and there was a spark of curiosity in her eyes.

Aedan had mixed feelings about the trip, but it represented an opportunity he could not ignore, "Well besides collecting Alistair's wedding present, I plan to attend the proving Bhelen is holding in honor of his first born. This proving is an invitation only event and will play host to Orzammar's best. Not only is in an honor to be invited, but there is great potential for recruitment… the dwarves understand the darkspawn like no other."

Aedan was excited to have the chance to practice his skills in the arena instead of against mindless creatures, and he was also looking forward to the possibility of recruiting more Grey Wardens. Ferelden now boasted nearly two dozen wardens, but the darkspawn still threatened. But as stirring as the prospect was, it meant another two weeks away from his family.

"Perhaps after Alistair's wedding you could bring the boys to Amaranthine for a while?" he asked. He hugged her again and said more softly, "I've missed you…"

There was a shuffle at the door and Aedan looked up to see Luke standing there. He smiled broadly at the boy, and stepped away from Leliana towards him, but restrained himself from holding his arms out. Luke was at that awkward age where hugs were just entirely inappropriate. He remembered it well. Instead, he strode over and held out a hand instead and was pleased when Luke grasped his arm.

"It's good to see you, Luke," he said.

Luke smiled a little shyly in return and said, "Will you have time to practice with me today, Aedan?"

Aedan tucked his fatigue away and put on his most sincere expression before he replied, "Of course, Luke, whenever you're ready."

Leliana had told him Luke had been practicing his forms and his strikes and blocks almost daily. It seemed the boy still had not given away the idea of becoming a Grey Warden and worked tirelessly to perfect his combat techniques. He had taken to wielding dual weapons, as Aedan did, and it suited his more lean and wiry build. Though Aedan knew he was supposed to find the boy's imitation flattering, he still worried about the boy's obsession with the Grey Wardens.

Leliana had opted to bring the Luke to Denerim with her. As Alistair's chancellor she spent more time in the city than Gwaren and neither of them liked the idea of leaving him alone for too long. He was so impressionable and Leliana and Aedan both hoped that by introducing him to the city, allowing him to practice his swordsmanship along with Oghren and the soldiers stationed in Denerim, that they could divert his interest to a military career instead.

Luke was still standing there and Aedan took this to mean he was ready now. He grinned at the boy and gestured that he take the lead. Before he left the room he glanced over his shoulder. Leliana was smiling indulgently and as he shrugged a quick apology, she waved him away saying, "Have fun!"

--=0=--

"Aedan didn't have parades and festivals to celebrate his wedding…" Alistair knew this was a weak argument, but there was always a certain satisfaction in eliciting just that expression and that particular tone of sigh from Eamon. In a day full of paperwork and meetings, it was the little things…

Eamon replied, "Aedan is not the King of Ferelden…" and Alistair smiled, so very tempted to reply, 'But he could be…' but Eamon was looking fatigued and Alistair took mercy on the older man. The last two years had taxed his former regent and he was looking increasingly…old.

Eamon rubbed his temples before continuing in his tirelessly patient tone, "Ferelden has been waiting for over a year for this day, Alistair, it's a occasion for the whole country to rejoice!"

There in lay the problem, to Alistair's mind. He did not want to share his special day with the entire country, he wanted to share it only with his intended bride. He'd never expected to be swept off his feet by love. He'd hoped… but he knew so little of romance. There had been no love in the Chantry, only books, and sometimes even they failed to deliver upon a promise, there was always an end to the story, a final page. He'd watched wistfully as Aedan and Leliana's friendship had developed into love. Though he would never wish for trials that had separated the pair time and again, he envied the bond that sustained them.

Alistair didn't notice the smile that shaped his features as he thought of his bride. She was his opposite in every way. She was a mere slip of a woman, delicate, but her fiery personality more than compensated for her lack of height. She could hold her own in any debate, and it was this side of her that had first caught his eye. She had come to Denerim to request aid on behalf of the elves seeking to settle land to the south of her father's holdings. Some of the local farmers had objected to Alistair's gift of land to the Dalish and had armed themselves against what they called the 'incursion'. But the elves had a champion in the form of a woman who was barely five feet tall.

Her colouring also vastly differed from his, her skin was pale, though her cheeks carried a high, natural blush no cosmetic could imitate. Her eyes were of a deep forest green and sparkled with humour and wit. Her raven hair reached to her waist when unbound, a sight he'd delighted in just once recently… Alistair quickly dragged his thoughts away from that particular vision thinking only that this wedding could not happen soon enough! Only three more weeks…

As a light flush burned the tips of his ears, Alistair noted that Eamon had stopped talking and was looking at him with an amused and indulgent expression. He laid a hand on Alistair's shoulder and said, "Although you ruffled some feathers with your choice, lad, I'm glad you are marrying someone who pleases you so. You deserve the happiness she will bring you." Eamon paused and then added in a more thoughtful tone, "You have done a fine job this past year, Alistair, I am proud of you. I may not say that enough. Though he'd hoped to spare you this business, Maric would have been proud of you too..."

Alistair felt his flush spreading at this outburst of unexpected warmth and praise and said quietly, "I long for a simple affair, something I would share with only those dear to me… but I understand, Eamon, a Royal Wedding it shall be. What is your plan for the parade again?"

They discussed the route and logistics until they were interrupted by a muffled thump. Alistair glanced up from his desk, and noted the door to his study had swung open, but no one had entered. Eamon was seated across the desk from him and he turned around and stood up, walking toward the door.

"Now here's an interesting delivery!" the older man exclaimed as he stooped down to collect something from the floor. Alistair stood up, a flicker of concern creasing his brow, but as Eamon turned his face relaxed into an easy smile. Eamon was holding Riordan and gazing down at the boy with much affection. Aedan's son had become a familiar sight around the palace.

Leliana arrived seconds later, breathless and flustered. "He only started walking yesterday!" she exclaimed, "I was stopped by a messenger and when I turned around, he was gone!"

Alistair and Eamon both laughed – a sound that obviously delighted Riordan as the boy joined in. Alistair walked around the desk to have his turn at holding him. Riordan was a welcome distraction and as he held the little boy and studied those familiar features he felt a wistful longing. Aedan had been blessed with not one, but two sons, though of course, Morrigan was probably largely responsible for the first. It was rare for a Grey Warden to able to have children at all…

Would he and his new wife be able to produce an heir? It was a subject Alistair had danced about delicately with his betrothed. While it was important, vitally important if one listened to Eamon, he did not want it to be the only reason he married.

Leliana stepped over to relieve him of Riordan just as the toddler began to wriggle and squirm and he asked her, "Did Aedan arrive last night?" He looked over her shoulder, as if he expected his friend to follow her through the door and said, "Is he here?"

"He's gone to Fort Drakon to practice with Luke. He won't leave the city without seeing you, Alistair," she promised.

Alistair couldn't suppress his grin…Fort Drakon! It was a fine day for some exercise, he hadn't sparred with his men for a while…

"You mentioned a messenger?" Eamon inquired of Leliana.

"Yes, the Empress's ship has been sighted. The harbourmaster anticipates they will be docking in about two hours," Leliana answered.

Alistair's shoulders slumped, well at least it was a fine day to stand at the harbour…

A messenger was sent to round up everyone of note, which included Aedan and Oghren. Alistair intended to give the Empress of Orlais a royal welcome. This would be her first official visit to Ferelden and the city of Denerim would be thronging the streets to greet their neighbouring ruler, therefore Eamon cautioned they should start for the harbour as soon as possible in order to avoid the crowds.

Riordan was demonstrating his new ability to walk, the uneven boards of the docks proving to be of little hindrance to his unsteady gait, when a shadow fell across them and Alistair straightened from his crouch. It was Aedan. He hugged his friend and Aedan clapped him fondly on the back, calling him 'Brother' by way of greeting.

Aedan then stooped down to pick up his son. As he stood up, Alistair marveled at the resemblance between the two faces. Besides the colour of his eyes, looking at Riordan really was like looking at a younger version of Ferelden's Warden Commander.

A gravelly, "There's the little nug runner!" sounded over his shoulder and Riordan immediately began to wriggle about in Aedan's arms, reaching for Oghren. The dwarf took the toddler from his father and Riordan immediately set to tugging at the various plaits and braids in his beard. Oghren didn't seem to mind in the least and held the boy comfortably as he laughed.

Luke poked his head over Oghren's shoulder and tickled Riordan under the chin, then stepped lightly to Leliana's side. The older boy was devoted to Leliana. She slipped an arm around his shoulders and hugged him close and asked him how the training had gone.

Aedan responded proudly, "He's getting a lot faster with those blades! You'll be ready to come to a proving with us soon, lad!" He ruffled Luke's hair and the boy ducked a little before acceding to the show of affection. Alistair smiled at the family and thought soon enough, I will have this too, Maker willing…

A murmur rose from the gathering crowd as the ship rounded the harbour and began to drift toward the dock. Alistair felt a pang of apprehension as he scanned the bobbing heads for her shining dark hair, where was she? She should be here. But slight as she was, he'd not likely see her coming until she stood next to him.

Soon enough the ship was docked and the Empress herself appeared on the deck. Within moments she was descending to the dock and Alistair stepped forward to greet her.

As always, Celene was perfectly turned out, as if she had not just spent the last two weeks sailing. She held out her hands as she stepped away from the ramp and Alistair took them and said, "Welcome to Ferelden, Celene, I trust your journey was a pleasant one?"

He felt a small stir of air at his side and Celene glanced over, and smiled as she said, "Yes, dear Alistair, it was indeed most agreeable, but please, you must introduce me to this most charming lady at your side. Is this your bride to be?"

Alistair raised his brows and glanced beside himself and there she was! Her cheeks were slightly flushed, and a few silken strands of hair had escaped her bun, but otherwise, she was beautifully presentable in a navy and gold dress, styled in an almost Orlesian fashion. She would have picked it out especially for this occasion. Alistair felt his apprehension lift and his heart lighten as a broad smile spread across his face. She grinned in return and winked at him as she reached up to tuck those fine strands of hair back behind her ears.

Alistair turned back towards Celene and said, "May I present, Brenna, daughter of Arl Wulf of the Western Hills, and soon to be Queen of Ferelden."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Aedan was staring out the window of Alistair's study. From where he was sitting there wasn't much of a view, mostly sky and some rooftops. There was a row of pigeons lined along one of the chimneys and they made him think of Shayle. They had correspondence from Wynne and Shayle from time to time, but in two years the pair had yet to find a way to restore the golem to her former body, that of a dwarf.

While he was lost in thought something hit him on the forehead and he blinked, looking down at his lap where a crumpled up ball of paper rested between his legs. He picked it up and looked curiously at Alistair, who was looking amused and exasperated all at the same time.

"Anyone home?" the king asked and Aedan grinned, tossing the balled up paper back across the desk, scoring a direct hit against Alistair's nose. He'd compensated for the expected dodge… he'd sparred with his friend enough times to know which way he was most likely to turn his head.

The makeshift ball was tossed back towards Aedan and he caught it in mid air and flung it immediately back over the desk, surprising Alistair with the quick return. It bounced off Alistair's hand and as he stooped to the floor to pick it up, Aedan reached for another paper on the desk, balled it up and flipped it directly at the his head as it popped back up.

Alistair blinked and gasped, then said, "Right!" in a decisive tone and started balling up papers across his desk. Aedan did the same and before long the two of them were running about the study, yelling, ducking and tossing balls of paper.

Alistair threw the first cushion, Aedan threw the second. They both missed and bent down to pick up their new missiles. Aedan grabbed his first and instead of throwing it right away he ducked behind the couch. He heard Alistair scuffling across the floor and risked poking his head up. He saw a tuft of reddish gold hair behind the desk. He launched his missile, which careened across the desk, taking the rest of the papers and a collection of discarded crumpled up balls with it. Alistair stood up against the shower of objects and threw his cushion towards Aedan. Aedan ducked and the cushion bounced off the bookcase behind him and whacked him softly on the back of the head.

They collected their cushions once more and as they straightened to launch at each other once again, there came a peal of laughter from the doorway. They both froze in the act of throwing and turned. Leliana was standing there, bent forward, one hand over her mouth, the other pressed to her side.

As Aedan grinned sheepishly at his wife a cushion thumped against the side of his face and Leliana laughed harder. He wheeled and tossed his cushion at Alistair, but he missed – it was too hard to aim while laughing. He sank down into the couch and chuckled helplessly for a moment while Alistair collected both cushions and approached.

He held up his hands and said, "I surrender!" Alistair grinned and dropped the cushions back onto the couch and sat beside him, laughing softly himself.

Leliana recovered first and tried for a stern expression as she said, "What would you have done if I'd been the Empress Celene?" but her frown faltered and she lapsed into laughter again at the thought.

Alistair answered, "I would have explained that we do things a little differently here in Ferelden!"

Aedan laughed harder, the mental picture of it all too much for him. Though he shared an easy camaraderie with his wardens, silly things like this never occurred in Amaranthine. Alistair had a sense of fun that he sorely missed. It felt good to laugh about nothing for a while and Aedan felt himself relaxing.

Leliana finally smiled and said, "Well, I'm sorry to have interrupted you both when you were obviously _so_ busy…"

Alistair grinned and said, "What did you need, Leliana?"

"Two things: the trade agreement with Bhelen. I gave it to you yesterday, is it signed?" she asked.

Alistair got up and looked at his desk… his face fell and his cheeks flushed and Aedan started laughing all over again as the King of Ferelden dropped to his hands and knees and began crawling about the floor picking up balls of crumpled paper.

He and Leliana went over to help and between the three of them they straightened out several important documents and restored the treaty Leliana had been looking for.

She stood up and looked at the sheaf of wrinkled papers in her hands for a moment before saying, "I suppose Aedan could tell him you were very thorough with your reading?"

She giggled and the sound was irresistible, setting them all off again.

Finally, Alistair asked, "And the second thing you needed?"

Leliana smiled, her eyes twinkling and replied, "My husband. Are you two done 'working' yet?"

Alistair scanned the piles of papers that now littered his desk and scratched his head. He looked up at Aedan and said, "So Zevran is at Amaranthine, Philippe is patrolling the North Highway and Eric the West… and Ferelden now boasts two dozen wardens, that about it?"

Aedan nodded, "Yes, names and further details were in my report. They're all hoping to be here for your wedding, Alistair, let's hope the darkspawn cooperate…"

And with that the mood sobered and the three of them nodded thoughtfully. Alistair put a hand on Aedan's shoulder and said, "So long as my Brother is with them…"

"I wouldn't miss it, Alistair. It lightens my heart to see you happy and settled with someone so suited to you," Aedan replied. He thought Brenna was wonderful and she was perfect for Alistair. She was an irresistible combination of intelligence and warmth, the very same qualities that the king himself possessed.

Alistair grinned in a pleased fashion and waved him away, "See you at dinner…"

Aedan took Leliana's hand and followed her from the room. They didn't talk as they traversed the hallways to their apartment; they just walked quietly beside one another. With Leliana spending so much time in Denerim, Alistair had insisted on providing them with their own suite of rooms at the palace. It was a convenience they both enjoyed as it allowed Leliana to keep her sons close by and be at the King's beck and call.

When they entered their suite, Leliana put a finger to her lips as she crossed to the desk, putting down the treaty. Aedan raised a brow and she whispered, "Riordan is napping…"

She popped her head into the toddler's room and the maid who had been watching over him came out with her and was excused. Aedan closed the door behind the young woman and then crossed to his wife, taking her in his arms and holding her close. He'd been looking forward to time alone with her all day. He said quietly, "How long do we have until dinner?"

Leliana smiled and said, "About an hour…"

Aedan grinned and released her, taking her by the hand and leading her into their bedroom saying, "Hmm…that _might_ be enough time…" but he stopped short when he saw the outfits laid out across their bed. His looked suspiciously… frilly.

He turned and raised a brow at Leliana and said, "Why do I have to dress up for dinner?"

"Because, my scruffy Warden," she said as she tugged at his less than presentable shirt, "We are dining with the Empress of Orlais."

Aedan groaned and Leliana smiled sympathetically. His distaste for refined clothing was well known…

Putting on a sly expression Aedan said, "Well if you want me to wear that fussy shirt you'll just have to take this one off me first…"

They had each other undressed in less than a minute…

--=0=--

Alistair leaned back in his chair and surveyed the remnants of the elaborate dinner that littered the table. This was not how he'd pictured his evening – he'd hoped for a quiet dinner with Brenna, Aedan and Leliana – but favourable winds had guided the empress's ship in to Denerim two days early.

Celene was sitting to his right. She had engaged Aedan in conversation and the warrior was doing his best not to look uncomfortable. Besides tugging at the collar of an obviously new shirt, he appeared slightly intimidated by the empress. She had insisted on being seated next to the 'Hero of Ferelden' and Aedan had endured the title three times before raising a hand and pleading with her to call him simply by name. Alistair had had to suppress a chuckle time and again as he watched Aedan's brows rise up and down as Celene described what a formal banquet would be like in Orlais. Alistair caught Leliana's eye and his chancellor winked at him, she was obviously enjoying Aedan's predicament too.

Leliana was seated next to Celene's chancellor, Bertram, and the two advisors had talked politely on and off throughout the evening. Zevran had been his acting advisor when last he'd visited Val Royeaux and Bertram had been slightly surprised to have been confronted by a different face, one he seemed familiar with. Leliana had confirmed privately to Alistair that she was indeed known to the Orlesian chancellor, but that it would not be a problem. Alistair trusted her judgment.

As if sensing his train of thought, Celene turned to him then and asked, "By the way, Alistair, where is that other delightful advisor of yours, Zevran, I think his name was?"

Aedan's brows rose again and Alistair let loose a chuckle. Ferelden certainly had ended up with a cast of characters holding the reins of power. Their king was a royal bastard, their chancellor was an Orlesian bard, a dwarf commanded their armies and on occasion he was advised by a former Antivan assassin. Yet it all worked! Or he had heard no rumours to the contrary; something both Leliana and Eamon would have immediately brought to his attention. He thought back to one of the first things he'd ever said to Aedan, 'One good thing about the Blight is that it brings people together.' Of course, he'd been demonstrating his ill-humour at the time…

Aedan answered for him, "Zevran is presently with the wardens in Amaranthine."

Celene asked, her tone intent, "Zevran is a Grey Warden as well? I had thought him your advisor, Alistair…"

Alistair grinned as he answered, "Zevran is the Warden Commander's man, I am privileged to 'borrow' him from time to time."

Aedan waved a hand, "Though I released him from that oath years ago…"

But Alistair had picked up on Celene's intimation and said quietly, "I am the only Grey Warden in Ferelden to have inolvement in politics," and he aimed an affectionate smile toward Eamon and Leliana both, "When I'm allowed to…"

Celene inclined her head towards Bertram and smiled as she said, "They like to think they know what's best, hmm?" The empress then looked across Alistair at Brenna and she shared a knowing look with his betrothed as she added, "And soon you'll have a whole new advisor!"

Alistair glanced to his left and smiled at Brenna. She responded to his smile with a sweet one of her own, a small dimple appearing in each cheek. Brenna was one of those women that wore her beauty casually. She was certainly aware of her effect on Alistair but did not play to it.

He found her small hand and squeezed it, before turning back to Celene and saying, "Ferelden's future queen needs no encouragement. Already she works tirelessly on behalf of our Dalish allies and has recently spread her efforts to include the alienage."

Alistair smiled proudly over at Brenna again and would have liked to have touched her cheek, but he kept his hands to himself. He wasn't quite as comfortable with public displays of affection as Aedan and Leliana seemed to be. Perhaps after some time, when he'd become used to the idea of having a wife. Wife…what a strange word that was.

Alistair's attention was diverted from Brenna by a loud bellow of laughter from across the table. Oghren was relating a story to the captain of Celene's Chevaliers and the two men were leaning back in their chairs and slapping their thighs. Alistair grinned. He knew most of Oghren's stories and could easily guess the flavour of the tale. Both Bertram and Isolde looked shocked, their twin expressions causing much mirth amongst the other guests.

Oghren had finally convinced Felsi to marry him, but she was not present at the dinner party. She was expecting their first child and was so close to her time she did not dare leave her quarters for long, or so Oghren had said. Alistair suspected her absence may also have been to do with fact that the dwarf had taken to affectionately likening his increasingly rotund wife to a bronto. They certainly had an odd relationship.

Now, if they could just work on Zevran and Kayley, all the remaining companions would be settled. It was a thought that Alistair often entertained. He considered these people his family and yearned to see them all happy with their loved ones, their children. This respite from the bitterness of war and strife might not last.

* * *

Although Arl Wulf did maintain a residence in Denerim, Brenna had been assigned a room at the palace for occasions such as these. Her room was next to Alistair's own and he could see her balcony from his. He had spent many an evening, even when she was not in the palace, gazing at her balcony and wondering what she might be up to. She would keep the room after they were married, but Alistair hoped she would share his own…

He stopped outside her door and released her hand. It was late and he was sure she'd want to head straight inside, but Brenna surprised him by saying, "Will you come in and sit with me a while?"

'Ah, yes!?' he thought and smiled wide, opening her door and gesturing her to precede him into the room. She walked straight to the balcony and opened the double doors wide, letting in a welcome breath of fresh air. It was a mild evening and it would be nice to sit outside after the stuffy atmosphere of the dining room, a chance to clear their heads.

Brenna leaned forward over the balcony railing and Alistair stopped beside her, admiring the way the moonlight played off her pale skin and dark hair. She looked thoughtful a moment and then she chuckled, turning her face towards his and saying, "So which did you find more amusing: the way the empress pounced on Aedan or the expression on Bertram's face when Oghren started telling stories?"

Alistair laughed. "It's a tough choice! I do have entertaining friends, don't I? Do you think the tone of the evening was too casual for an empress? Bertram certainly spent a lot of his time looking down his nose at one or the other of us."

Brenna leaned back and flipped a hand up and down in a dismissing gesture, "I think it was probably the most relaxing evening she's had in a while. By all accounts they don't have intimate dinner parties in Orlais, they have banquets and balls and competitions to see who had the most unofficial titles. I think she enjoyed being Celene tonight."

Alistair took the opportunity to move a little closer to her and he reached out to brush those few wisps of hair away from her eyes as he said, "What about you, did you enjoy the evening?"

She smiled and nodded, but said quietly, "Do you think we might have a ball after our wedding? I heard Celene describing one to Aedan and it sounded magical, music and dancing, I would adore something like that…on a smaller scale, of course."

He pictured Brenna twirling about in a beautiful dress then returning to his arms, her cheeks flushed with the excitement and exertion of dancing and nodded immediately, "Yes, I think so. But you must wear your hair down so that it swirls about you when you dance."

She smiled in delight and he leaned forward to kiss her then, his hands moving to untie that bun, eager to release the long dark flow of hair that entranced him so. But as his lips touched hers, something punched him in the back and he lost his breath. It happened again, and he staggered forward from the blow, dropping his hands to her shoulders to steady himself.

Alistair grunted against her lips and tried to lift his head. Brenna drew back. He looked at her and wondered why her face was spattered with… was that blood? Her hands touched his chest and came away wet, shining, stained dark. He looked at them, and looked down at himself. Something was poking out of his shirt and it hurt to breathe, in fact he wasn't sure he could draw any air at all. He tried and heard a whistling sound, tasted blood in his throat.

As he sank to his knees, darkness edging in on his vision, the whistling was joined by a screaming. The floor of the balcony rose to meet him and the last thing he saw was Brenna crouched over him, bloodied hands to her cheeks, her eyes wide with terror, her mouth open and he thought the screaming might have been coming from her.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Aedan was just drifting off to sleep when he heard the screaming. His eyes snapped open and he took a breath, waiting in the silence for any sound, sure it might have been the beginning of a dream, but no, there it was again. Leliana had opened their windows before going to bed, as the night was so mild, and the hair-raising sound was coming in with the cool air.

He sat upright and tapped Leliana urgently as he swung his legs over the bed and ran to the window. He leaned out just as the piercing screaming reached a new pitch…it was not coming from the gardens below, but from one of the balconies across from his…Alistair's? Aedan wheeled about and, grabbing only his pants and nearly tripping in his haste to put his legs into them, ran for the door.

Leliana was slipping out of bed saying, "Aedan, what is it, is it one of the boys?" when the screaming started again. Aedan looked over his shoulder and their eyes locked and they shivered together.

"Will you go for a healer, Leli? It sounds like it's coming from Alistair's room…" Aedan didn't wait for a response, but fled the room, his bare feet almost soundless as he raced down the hallway toward Alistair's room. He met several guards along the way and quickly deduced they were heading past Alistair's room toward Brenna's. Aedan felt a cold prickle of fear down his spine…had something happened to Brenna? Was that her screaming? Where was Alistair?

Brenna's room was chaotic, there were guards and servants all milling about, but no one seemed in charge. Aedan waded through people, the knot of guards thickest about the double doors to the balcony. The screaming continued unabated though her voice, it was definitely Brenna's voice, had taken on a raw edge. There was still no sign of…Maker's breath.

Aedan stopped still as he caught sight of the scene on the balcony. He shivered, goose bumps rising along his skin. He swallowed and quickly turned back toward the crowded room, yelling, "Has anyone sent for a healer?" He pointed at a guard and said, "You, get everyone out of here, NOW!" He pointed at another and said, "Go wake Eamon." He continued pointing and shouting orders for another minute before stopping, wanting to turn around but afraid to.

Then he did and he felt his knees weaken. He took several deep breaths and stepped onto the balcony. Brenna had Alistair cradled in her arms. She was covered in blood. She had finally stopped screaming and was simply moaning and rocking back and forth, tears streaking down her stained cheeks. Aedan crouched beside her and put a hand on her shoulder, "Brenna," he said quietly and his voice sounded odd to his ears, "Are you hurt?"

She shook her head and mumbled something. Aedan took her face gently in his hands and turned her head from side to side, he stopped short of running his hands down her blood soaked dress, but it looked like all the blood was…Alistair's, he was so pale! His normally ruddy skin had taken on a grey tinge and frothy bubbles of blood cornered his bluish lips. The front of his shirt was pierced by two arrow heads. Why was there so much blood, they need a healer, fast! He put his fingers to Alistair's neck and found a pulse, but it was erratic.

Aedan stood up so fast his head spun. He stepped to the stone railing and gripped it to steady himself as he looked out into the moonlit night. His thoughts were racing so fast he was having a hard time picking which one to act upon first. Who, why, where, how? He picked upon 'where' and looked down at Brenna, about to ask her which way Alistair had been facing, but he noted she was looking even more pale than the man in her arms. He needed to get her out of here.

The guard he had ordered to clear the room stepped toward the wide opened doors of the balcony and said, "Commander?"

Aedan tried to remember all the orders he'd given out and asked, "Is someone searching the grounds?"

The guard bobbed his head emphatically and Aedan looked down at Alistair, checking the angle of the arrows. They were… "They were shot from the same height as the balcony," a soft voice confirmed his suspicion and he looked up to see Leliana standing in the doorway.

Aedan moved toward her, gathering her into his arms as he said to the guard, "Do not let anyone leave the castle, do you understand, no one leaves!"

He then turned his head back to Leliana and said, "Can you try and ease Brenna out from there, can you…"

Leliana answered, "Of course," and immediately dropped to her knees beside the distraught girl, slipping an arm about her shoulders and murmuring soothingly to her.

Another figure appeared in the doorway and Aedan was relieved to see it was the healer at last. He thanked the Maker they were at the palace rather than somewhere like Gwaren where he didn't happen to have a mage or a healer conveniently on staff. After the Siege of Denerim Alistair had provided for sweeping changes within the Mage's Circle, they had been slow to take effect, but even now there was a constant contingent of mages on hand in Denerim itself.

Eamon was standing behind the mage and his was another face that was entirely too pale…in fact, the former Arl was starting to sway. Aedan quickly stepped to his side and assisted Isolde in helping him to the couch. He'd hoped Eamon would be fit to take charge, but the old man was gasping for breath, his brow covered in a fine sheen of sweat.

He heard a choked sob and Leliana brushed past him with Brenna. Aedan stepped back out onto the balcony and the mage beckoned him close. He said, "I want you to break off these arrows and then draw them through while I channel healing magic into the wounds…quickly, we do not have much time…his lung is pierced…"

Aedan gasped for air, feeling as if the breath had been torn from his own chest as he sank to his knees besides his friend, his Brother. He brushed Alistair's pale cheek gently with his fingers, then shuffled on his knees behind him, and grabbed the first arrow in both hands. He broke the shaft with a sharp crack, then reached for the other, repeating the movement. He leaned over and grasped the tip of the first, his fingers slipping in sticky wetness before he could wrap his hand about the arrow head and draw it through and out of Alistair's chest. He tossed it aside and a memory of having to do this very same thing for Leliana surfaced. He swallowed hard and concentrated.

Tears fell unnoticed down his cheeks as Aedan reached for the second arrow head. It hadn't protruded quite as far and he'd inadvertently pulled it back into Alistair's chest a little as he'd broken the shaft. He had to reach behind and push on the splintered wood first. The feel of pushing the arrow through flesh sickened him and he had to gulp for air as he again grasped the head, slicing his fingers on the sharpened tip, and wrenched it out. Then came the blood, so much blood, and bubbles, it was bubbling and there was an odd whistling sound. Aedan instinctively pushed his hands over the wounds, as if pressing on the soaked material could somehow stop the flow.

He closed his eyes and moved his lips in silent prayer as he pressed his hands against Alistair's chest. A hand was tugging at his shoulder, but he didn't want to let go. As the tugging became more insistent he opened his eyes and the mage was crouched beside him saying, "We should move him to the bed."

Aedan nodded and assisted the man in removing what was left of Alistair's shirt, and then together they lifted him and moved him over to Brenna's bed. Isolde was there, laying down extra sheets and she had warm water ready. He took a cloth from her hand, perhaps a little roughly he belatedly realized as he heard her shocked gasp, and set to sponging the blood away from Alistair's chest. He knew she could have done it, but he _wanted_ to do it. He had to be doing something otherwise he wasn't sure he'd remain standing or functioning or sane.

The blood was still bubbling out of one of the wounds and Aedan seemed to be smearing it around and he was starting to feel ineffectual and panicky. He blotted at the wound instead, trying to stop the air from bubbling through. It should have healed by now, what was the mage doing? He glanced over at the mage and said, "Why is he still bleeding?"

The mage looked very pale, which Aedan just did not understand, he'd seen Wynne deal with awful wounds before, though usually in a less vital part of the body. Alistair had been wearing nothing but a shirt, no armour, no protection. The mage hadn't answered him, he was too busy chanting with his eyes closed, his hands outstretched toward Alistair. Aedan rinsed the cloth out and wiped again, making better progress this time, thank the Maker the bleeding seemed to have stopped. The mage opened his eyes finally and sagged against the bed.

He looked up at Aedan and said, "One of the arrows must have nicked a major artery, that's why there is so much blood. The other pierced a lung. There was so much internal damage…he will need potions to replenish his blood supply, as soon as possible, otherwise…"

The mage left the words unsaid; they were too horrible to contemplate. That sense of useless panic began to rise within Aedan again, but he pushed it away, not now, not yet… He beckoned to Isolde and asked as politely as possible for the things he needed. She nodded and bustled away importantly. Aedan rinsed the cloth again, but the water was red, the cloth was red and he saw that his own hands and arms were as smeared with blood as Alistair was. He dropped the cloth and just rested his hand on Alistair's chest instead, covering the wound as if by hiding it with his hand he could make it magically disappear.

There was movement at the door and he looked up. Leliana was escorting Brenna out of the room. The girl looked like a ghost, her eyes were completely unfocused and she walked as if she had no purpose. As they slipped through the door, Isolde returned, her arms laden with bottles and yet more towels. Aedan sighed with relief and offered the woman and tremulous smile.

"Thank you, Isolde…I'm sorry if my manner was…" he tried, but she waved him off and sat beside him, sorting through the bottles until she came up with the appropriate one and showed it to the mage. The mage nodded and between the three of them they propped up the king's head and managed to trickle the potion between his lips. He didn't swallow and the liquid pooled out of his mouth and ran down his chin.

"Not so much…" the mage said, stopping Aedan's hand as he lifted it again.

Alistair gurgled and they had to lift him forward, let the rest of the potion spill from his mouth, the sticky substance forming rivulets down his blood smeared chest. He took a shuddering breath, but his eyes remained closed. Aedan lifted the potion again and this time dispensed just a few drops. It took time, but eventually the small bottle was empty and Aedan thought Alistair's lips looked a little less blue, that there might have been a slight flush spreading across his skin.

The three of them gently laid the king back down on the bed and then simply sat around him, limp with relief themselves. Alistair's chest hitched a few times and then began to rise and fall in a more steady rhythm. The clearest indication of relief, however, was the easing of the creases across the mage's forehead as he again felt for a pulse and let his hand hover over Alistair's wounds, finally closing them completely, leaving the smallest of puckered scars.

Aedan felt his adrenaline draining away and barely noticed as Isolde stood up and began gathering all the discarded cloths he'd dropped around Alistair during his attempts to clean away all the blood. A light touch upon his shoulder stirred him and Aedan looked up. It was Leliana.

"Brenna is sleeping in Alistair's room, I will sit with her. I just wanted to tell you where I was," she said.

Aedan captured Leliana's hand and threaded his fingers through hers, noting his were streaked and stained with Alistair's blood, and his own. He'd not noticed the fine lacing of cuts from the arrow heads until now. He looked at them and felt their sting, but it was almost as if it they someone else's fingers. He looked up at Leliana and said quietly, "I'll come along soon… what of the boys?"

"Luke will look after Riordan, he knows where to find us," Leliana answered. She stooped and brushed a kiss across his brow and then with a final squeeze of his fingers, let go his hand and left the room.

Aedan returned his gaze to Alistair. He noted definite signs of improvement. The king merely looked as if he was sleeping now. He brushed his fingers lightly over Alistair's brow and wiped at some of the stains on his cheek. He was thinking he might try cleaning away some more of the blood when a wail rose from behind him. Aedan turned his head quickly. Isolde was crouched in front of Eamon patting his hands and then his cheek and calling his name, "Eamon? Eamon!"

The Arl's face was grey, his eyes were closed. He was very still… Isolde looked up, her face a mask of dismay and said, "Quickly, please, you must do something…Eamon…"

The mage had been resting against the head board of the bed, his eyes closed, restoring his mana through meditation. His eyes opened at the sound of Isolde's keening cry and he struggled to his feet, grabbing at the bed posts for support as he walked toward the couch.

He immediately put his hand to Eamon's forehead. Aedan could not see the mage's face, it was turned away from him, toward Isolde, but whatever she saw in his expression caused her to fold in upon herself and collapse about Eamon's still knees. The mage stooped down to steady her and she looked up, her eyes filled with tears, and she said, "Is there nothing you can do?"

The mage said quietly, "He is gone, my Lady…" he crouched beside Isolde and tentatively patted at her shoulder, but she shrugged his hand away and folded her arms across her husband's lap, lowered her head into them and sobbed.

Aedan felt a chill start afresh along his arms. Eamon was dead? In all the chaos that had swirled about Alistair and the ordering of the guards, he'd quite forgotten the former arl's presence… he'd been so pale, the look on his face when he'd caught sight of Alistair on the balcony. It was too much, Aedan was beyond the capacity to feel the sadness of it, there was just no sense to it. They were all gathered here for a happy occasion, were they not? Maker… where would it end?


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

It was a night without end.

The task of organizing for Eamon's...body…to be taken care of fell to him. He still could not quite believe the man had passed and no one had noticed. The thought frightened and saddened Aedan beyond belief. He hoped and prayed that Eamon hadn't suffered, but of course he must have. The sight of Alistair, all that blood, the pitch of Brenna's screams…

The task of organizing the guards fell to Aedan also. After he'd summoned some servants to take care of Eamon and Isolde, he called for the captain and asked for a report. The grounds had been scoured to no avail. This news did not surprise Aedan as they now knew the attack had taken place from one of the rooms on the other side of the castle – the guest wing. Aedan had completely forgotten that the guest quarters were in use this evening, occupied by Orlesians.

The task of informing their foreign guests of current developments did not fall to Aedan. After glancing down at himself, Aedan was sickened by what he saw. He was dressed only in a pair of pants and his bare arms and chest were covered in blood. It had dried and was flaking off in places and smeared in others. It looked like he'd been slaughtering pigs. He summoned the palace steward and asked him to check on their guests.

The task of summoning Oghren did fall to Aedan. How could he have forgotten such an important detail? The palace guard had their own captain, the reasonably competent man Aedan had been using as an errand boy. But Aedan knew Oghren. Besides trusting and respecting the dwarf, he was a friend and he felt the need to summon friends right now. And Oghren would want to be here, that he knew.

The task of watching over Alistair was one Aedan would rather have kept for himself. He was loathe to leave the side of his Brother, his dearest friend. One glance at the mage clearly ruled the man out as an option. He was having trouble standing on his own. Aedan thanked the Maker the Grey Wardens were fortunate enough to have recruited a mage like Taren. Not only was he a spirit healer, but he was combat seasoned. Alistair's injuries were probably the worst this young mage had ever seen. Aedan dismissed him and summoned yet more servants and guards, stationing them around the room and outside the door with instructions to come for him if the King so much as blinked. Then he went to wash and change.

As Aedan entered his own apartment the events of the night began to take on an unreal quality. The rooms were darkened and quiet. He noted that only an hour had passed since they'd awakened. One hour, that was all it took for one man to be saved and for another man to die. He sat in the darkness for a moment, without lighting any lanterns, just listening to the quiet night sounds that filtered through the open windows and the occasional soft snore from one of his sons, his boys. Aedan rose and went into Riordan's room. The toddler was sprawled upon his back, arms spread wide, his face flushed with health and vitality even in sleep. Aedan ached to hold him, but did not dare disturb him. He turned to find Luke and smiled as he discovered the fifteen year old boy mimicked the posture of Riordan, arms also flung wide across the sides of the chair he was slumbering in. He stroked back a lock of Luke's hair, leaving his hand upon the warm head a moment before quietly retreating to his own bedroom.

When he slipped into Alistair's room a short while later, it was as dark and peaceful as his own had been. Brenna was asleep and Leliana was awake. His wife was sitting by the window, elbows resting on the sill as she gazed out into the night. He stepped beside her and she looked up and smiled softly at him. Aedan sank to his knees beside her chair and wrapped his arms about her waist, resting his head in her lap for a moment, simply seeking comfort. She stroked his head gently, soothingly.

He sat back on his heels and looked up at her, wondering how to tell her the news. There was just no easy way, he said, "Eamon is dead, Leli."

She gasped quietly, covering her mouth, tears gathering in her eyes as she asked, "How?"

"It was the shock, I think. His heart…" Aedan could say no more, it was all speculation, and no one had seen Eamon take his last breath. To die alone in a room full of people, it was too awful to contemplate.

"Alistair…?" she asked, her breath catching at the end of his name.

"He is sleeping, he lost so much blood, we don't know…" Aedan paused, he'd nearly said 'if' but forced his mouth to say, "when he will wake. You are Alistair's chancellor, Leliana, where do we go from here? What else should I be doing?"

"Send word to Amaranthine, Aedan, and ask Zevran to come," Leliana replied.

Aedan nodded. Of course, he should have thought of that, Zevran would be an invaluable asset at a time like this. He crossed to Alistair's desk and penned a quick note.

Leliana had moved over to the desk with him and they quickly listed what had been done and what needed to be done. Aedan marveled at how calm and collected his wife was, but one glance at her eyes, her sad face, and he knew that she was feeling very much the same as he, somewhat lost and adrift.

She caught him looking at her and she stepped forward and he took her into his arms and held her close. Sometimes he felt Leliana was the source of all his strength, but right now he knew she needed him just as much and he simply held her for as long as she needed to be held.

Dropping a quick kiss to her forehead, he stepped back and said, "I want to check on Alistair…do you need anything?"

Leliana shook her head and he released her, saying softly, "Get some sleep if you can, my love, I have a feeling you're going to need it…"

Aedan heard Oghren before he saw him. The commander of Ferelden's armies was just inside the door to Brenna's room demanding a report from the captain of the palace guard. Aedan didn't get to see Oghren in an official capacity very often and he was suitably impressed. The dwarf looked up at his approach and they simply regarded one another with grave expressions before Oghren greeted him with a soft and low, "Warden."

Aedan wasn't sure he'd ever heard Oghren call him by name and in a moment of absurdity he wondered if Oghren actually knew what he was called. He felt the corner of his mouth pull upwards at the thought and dropped his head, rubbing at his temples. Maker he was tired…and he and Oghren…

"We're supposed to be leaving for Orzammar in a few hours," Aedan remembered suddenly.

Oghren nodded and said, "Aye, I think we're going to be late for that proving…Bhelen will just have to hold on to his knickers until his guests of honor arrive, eh?"

Aedan would have chuckled, but it seemed entirely inappropriate, so he merely nodded and clapped Oghren on the shoulder fondly. The gruff dwarf nodded back at him, thumping him in the centre of the back and they went in to check on Alistair.

The king was sleeping peacefully, there were no signs yet of fever or infection. He and Oghren finished wiping away the last of the blood, Aedan working more carefully, more calmly. They ordered clean linens and finally settled Alistair back into the freshened bed. He'd not woken once.

Aedan sat on one side of the bed and Oghren sat on the other and they talked softly over the sleeping man. Aedan said, "Thank you for coming, Oghren, I was starting to feel a bit lost over here all by myself…"

Oghren waved a dismissive hand, "Ah, I'd have been sodding upset if you hadn't called me." He shook his head sadly, "I can't believe Eamon's passed, Alistair is going to take that hard, let me tell you. For every complaint he made about that old griper, he still looked up to the man."

Aedan nodded, "I know. We will get to the bottom of this. I've sent a fast courier to Amaranthine. Zevran should be with us by…" Aedan glanced outside, it was still night, "tomorrow night, tonight?"

They shrugged at one another and resumed looking at Alistair in silence.

There was a knock at the door and a guard opened it, admitting the captain. The man nodded from Aedan to Oghren, saying, "Commander, Commander," and then cleared this throat before adding, "We found a man…I've had him taken to Fort Drakon."

Aedan and Oghren both shot to their feet, glanced and at one another and ran for the door. As he reached the door, Aedan glanced back at Alistair a moment and then followed the guards out.

The night air was cooling as they walked the streets to the fort. Aedan couldn't help but shudder as he passed through the great doors. Though he came here by day to practice his swordsmanship, at night he could not help but remember the terrible battle that had taken place on the rooftop just two years before.

More memories surfaced as he followed Oghren into the dungeons. The last time he'd been down here, he'd been in a cell, imprisoned for killing Howe. He had lain on the floor of their cell insensible for nearly two days before Alistair had brought him back to some semblance of reason, only to slaughter innumerable guards, men and women, in grief and fury during their escape.

Aedan shook his head and focused on the man being held in the cell before him. He was a very ordinary looking man, Aedan wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, anyone could kill a king, right? One didn't need to be seven feet tall or gifted with magic. A very plain man, perhaps a little on the thin side could do it just as well.

As he studied those non-descript features, brown hair, brown eyes, ruddy skin, the worn leather armour, the calloused fingers, the ill cared for boots, Aedan felt the familiar stirrings of his old companions fury and rage begin to stir in his gut. This man, this plain and unremarkable man had tried to kill his Brother! Never mind that Alistair was also a King. This man had caused the death of Eamon.

Aedan snarled but the man did not flinch. The prisoner merely regarded him with and indecipherable expression, his eyes seeming never to blink. Through clenched teeth Aedan said, "Who are you?"

The man said nothing. The guard said, "He hasn't spoken a word since we brought him here."

Aedan turned at a tap on his shoulder and Oghren was there, beckoning him away from the cell. He followed the dwarf reluctantly a short distance away, a glance over his shoulder confirming those dark brown eyes were following him. He growled.

"He'll not be spilling his secrets the easy way, Warden, I've seen his type before…" Oghren said.

Aedan spread his hands and said, "What are you saying?"

A shadow passed over them and Aedan looked up. A giant was standing before him. A behemoth of a man, seven feet tall, dressed in dark, stiff leather. His expression was nothing short of terrifying. Aedan swallowed and turned to Oghren and the dwarf shrugged and said, "He certainly looks the part, don't he?"

Aedan blinked and nodded. Oghren continued, "Ah… you might not want to stay for this, Warden…"

He did…and he didn't want to stay. This was _not_ a situation Aedan had encountered before. They didn't question the darkspawn, they didn't torture or interrogate them. They didn't stop to ask why they were bent on killing everything in their path. It was an accepted fact. They killed you or you killed them. Problem solved. Killing this man would solve nothing. They needed answers.

Aedan squared his shoulders and clenched his fists as he followed Oghren and the torturer back to the cell. He followed as the guards took the would-be assassin by the arms and let him down the stairs. The plain little man didn't whimper, he didn't struggle, but merely allowed himself to be taken away and lifted onto the rack.

--=0=--

Alistair could hear screaming. It just didn't stop, it echoed in his ears, in his head and he wanted to raise his hands to block the sound. He had been trying to lift his hands for what seemed like hours and was surprised when this time they moved. Then the screaming stopped. Just like that, and all it had taken was the slightest twitch of his hands. He opened his eyes.

He was not in his own bed. The canopy above this one looked like his, but it was a different colour, softer, more feminine. Was he in Brenna's bed? Holy Maker…he gasped and turned his head and there was someone in the bed with him, but it wasn't Brenna. It was Aedan and his friend wasn't _in_ the bed, but only half _on_ the bed, slumped forward from a chair, his head turned sideways toward him, eyes closed, mouth open, asleep. Alistair studied the warrior's face a moment, thinking Aedan looked absolutely spent, before he wondered exactly why Aedan was slumped across a bed that belonged to neither of them.

"Aedan," he croaked. He tried to sit up, but found he felt stiff all over, as if he'd been asleep for a week.

Aedan's eyes flew open and the sight of them frightened him. Besides the fact they were so red and the skin beneath so dark, his expression was so terribly sad, no, more than simply sad. Aedan looked haunted. He sat up and scrubbed at his face with both hands, opening and closing his red-rimmed eyes and working his jaw. Aedan finally yawned and blinked and then looked back down at him, placing a hand gently on his shoulder and saying, "How do you feel?"

Alistair started to say, "I'm fine," but his voice still croaked and he was starting to realize that in fact he did not feel fine at all. He felt like he'd been kicked in the chest. He looked down and saw the puckered scars and his brows drew down sharply. He drew in a deep breath, felt a slight internal pull and let it out again. He looked back up at Aedan and said, "What happened."

Aedan simply looked at him for a moment before answering, and when he finally started to speak his voice was as haunted as his eyes, "Someone tried to kill you, Alistair."

Alistair glanced back down at the scars on his chest and Aedan nodded, confirming the wounds. Alistair said, "How? Why?" He thought, Who? And then he thought, oh Maker, oh no… he was afraid to ask, "Brenna?"

Aedan's face cleared immediately and if he could have slumped with relief, Alistair would have. Brenna must be safe.

"Brenna was with you, but she is well, Alistair, she's still resting. Leliana is with her." Aedan said.

To his surprise, tears gathered at the corners of his eyes. Alistair didn't know if it was because he might have lost her, or because he still had her. The rush of emotion he felt was too intense for him to decipher. This is what love is like, he realized. He had thought himself in love with Brenna, and no doubt he had been, but this depth, this soul stirring profundity took him utterly by surprise. He was momentarily breathless and Aedan's brow had creased with concern.

"Should I summon the healer, is it difficult to breathe?" Aedan asked.

Alistair wanted to say, yes, but not for the reasons you think. He'd not really discussed his feelings for Brenna with his friend. He had with Leliana. The bard had been a constant source of comfort to him when he'd first started to court Brenna. With reluctance he tore his thoughts away from his raven-haired betrothed and answered, "No, I'm fine, just a little…overwhelmed."

Aedan nodded and patted his shoulder. He then briefly outlined the events of the previous night. He paused after describing the potion he'd been administered, turning to indicate the row of small bottles lined up along the nightstand. "You should take one now," he added.

Aedan's eyes dropped then and he appeared to be studying the pattern embroidered into the linens. Alistair knew his friend, knew him well. Aedan wasn't telling him something. Something awful…

"Aedan, what aren't you telling me?" Alistair asked, holding his breath as he waited for the warrior to reply.

When Aedan looked up, his eyes were filled with tears and he said, "Alistair, I'm so sorry… but… Eamon is dead."

Alistair dropped the bottle he'd been holding, his fingers suddenly numbed. The shock of Aedan's words was incomprehensible. How had this happened? Though they'd had their differences, he'd loved Eamon in his own way, he'd held a long abiding fondness for the man that might have been his father, the man that had sheltered him and then propelled him toward the throne. His anger was slower to rise, but as it began to build he became breathless with it, the sharp pain in his recently healed lung pulling as he panted for breath.

"Who did this, Aedan? Who is responsible for this terrible thing?"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Zevran arrived that evening to find a solemn dinner in progress. He was ushered into the dining room by a guard and Aedan thought the elf looked as weary as the rest of them felt. He stood and strode over to his friend and grasped his outstretched arm. Zevran patted him on the shoulder before stepping back to survey the other occupants of the room. He then made a formal greeting to the empress, "It is a pleasure to see you again, your majesty."

Celene smiled decorously at Zevran and rose to greet him also, offering him her hand, "Please, Zevran, you must call me Celene. Though it is certainly a pleasure to see you also, despite the circumstances…" she waved her hand and her face assumed an appropriately somber expression.

Zevran nodded gravely and inclined his head to Celene's attendants before turning to Aedan and saying in a low tone, "When can we talk?"

Celene was already waving him away as Aedan excused himself from the gathering. He laid a hand on Leliana's shoulder and she covered his fingers with her own. He then left her and Oghren to 'entertain' their guests. It had been a quiet meal, conversation polite and subdued, and four chairs sat pointedly empty.

Aedan led Zevran to Alistair's study. The king himself was sleeping and when last he'd checked, he'd been informed by the door guards that Brenna was with him. He did not want to risk disturbing either of them again this evening.

His note to Zevran had been brief, the former assassin did not know of Eamon's death and his face paled visibly as Aedan related the events of the previous night.

"Thank the Maker you are here, Zev, Alistair insists Oghren and I leave for Orzammar tomorrow…" Aedan finished with.

Aedan didn't want to go, but duty called. Not only was this an opportunity to recruit a new warden or two, he and Oghren were to attend the Proving in an official capacity. They were representing the King of Ferelden and they would be delivering important trade agreements. Bhelen and the dwarves were important allies. Alistair had not needed to remind him of that fact, he'd merely given Aedan that look and Aedan had acquiesced.

Alistair would be on his feet in the morning, youth and condition had been on his side and he was recovering quickly. The mage who had healed him assured them both that though Alistair might find himself short of breath in the short term, there would be no lasting effects. The news had come as a great relief. Alistair had been incredibly lucky, such injuries may have killed someone with less constitution and of course anyone who didn't happen to have a healer on staff.

Zevran acknowledged Aedan's last comment with a smile and raised a hand to his shoulder, saying, "I am your man, Aedan, you know that. No harm will come to Alistair while you are gone. Now, tell me of this would-be assassin," and the elf spat the word assassin as if it were distasteful to be associated with such.

Aedan closed his eyes and swallowed. He did not want to remember what he had witnessed in the dungeon of Fort Drakon. Aedan had killed men, many of them, and some of them in a manner even he himself had found distasteful. After Leliana had been taken from him by rogue Orlesian wardens, he'd suffered a terrible lack of control and had done things that had given him nightmares for months. But none of it came close to what had been done to that plain little man.

"He was caught trying to sneak out of the kitchens and taken to Fort Drakon. Zev, he won't talk." Aedan had to swallow again and draw in some air before saying, "They…" he couldn't say it. He felt like gagging and flushed with embarrassment as he went to the window and gulped in breaths of fresh air.

He felt a hand on his arm and when he turned, Zevran was regarding him with sympathy in his eyes. He said, "He was paid for silence, then."

Aedan nodded mutely, unable to speak.

Zevran squeezed his arm and said, "Take me to him."

It was an overcast day and the grey sky and gathering clouds suited Aedan's mood as he once more made his way to Fort Drakon. He regarded the imposing entryway and couldn't help but shudder. Any pleasant memories he had of this place, the training with Oghren, the sparring sessions with Luke, were starting to get crowded out by the more dire ones.

As they descended to the dungeon, Aedan studiously kept his eyes away from the lower level. He straightened his back and took a deep breath,thinking Oghren might have been the better choice for this duty, the dwarf seemed to be made of sterner stuff than he. Aedan idly wondered if fatherhood had softened him. Every life seemed more precious now that he was responsible for more than his own.

They stopped outside the cell. The assassin was reclined in the corner, watching them approach. Aedan tried to ignore the fact that the man's arms and legs looked unnaturally loose and found himself hissing softly as he remembered the sound of those joints separating. He put a hand to one of the bars, steadying himself, and turned to look at Zevran instead.

One look at Zevran's face told Aedan that the assassin was known to the former Crow. Did that mean the assassin was a Crow himself?

Zevran turned his face away from the cell and looked at Aedan as he spoke. He said, "This man is not your assassin."

Aedan felt the blood drain from his face. Had they tortured an innocent man? Zevran obviously interpreted his thoughts as his lips crooked into a small smile and he said, "Let me rephrase that, Juilden was most certainly involved, but he is no bowman, poisons are his specialty," he turned and winked at the man, whose expression and demeanor had yet to change, and said, "Aren't they, my friend?"

It had occurred to Aedan that there might have been more than one assassin involved, but with this man, this Juilden's refusal to talk, they'd had no way of confirming any of their suspicions.

Aedan asked, "So he is a Crow then?"

Zevran shook his head, "He was, but it was rumoured that he was recruited away by the Brethren." The elf then turned towards Aedan and said quietly, "Might I have a few minutes alone with him?"

Aedan shivered, he couldn't help it. Who were the Brethren that they recruited from the ranks of the Crows? Sometimes it seemed whenever he turned around, Thedas became an even darker place. With these thoughts, Aedan had no doubt that what Zevran had in mind was not a friendly chat. He nodded and walked stiffly away, beckoning the two guards at the foot of the stairs to follow him out.

Aedan walked towards the front of Fort Drakon, through the large hall that dominated the front of the fortress and out to one of the sitting rooms where he sank down into a chair and let his head flop back. Maker but he was tired. He tried closing his eyes, but his over active imagination wanted to conjure images from the dungeons. He recalled one of the mental focus techniques Alistair had taught him and used it to think pleasant thoughts instead. He thought of Leliana and his boys.

He felt Zevran's presence before he heard him and opened his eyes to find the former crow standing directly in front of him. He blinked. Had he fallen asleep? He glanced up at Zevran and took note of the man's grim expression. He asked, "Did he talk?"

Zevran nodded and said, "We have a problem, Aedan."

--=0=--

Alistair awoke to radiant sunshine pouring into the windows of his room. He'd forgotten to close the drapes again last night it seemed. He didn't mind though, the warmth and the light was cheering and he lay there a moment watching the motes of dust dance about in the rays that alighted on the bed spread. He felt well, rested and healthy. The horror of the last two days seemed to fade somewhat in the face of such a beautiful and peaceful morning.

He heard a soft breath to his side and turned his head away from the window. Brenna lay there beside him. Her dark hair was spread across the pillows and her face was peaceful in sleep. His eyes traveled downward over her bare shoulders and he drew in a shallow breath as he studied the curve of one breast, the sheet had slipped just enough. He smiled in delight as he thought about the previous night. Though taking two arrows to the chest was an unconventional method of enticing a woman to his bed, he couldn't deny his pleasure in the results.

As though she felt his gaze upon her face, Brenna opened her forest green eyes. She smiled and murmured, "Good morning."

Alistair returned her smile and rolled over so he was facing her. He reached out to stroke her cheek and said, "Maker's breath, but you are beautiful. Last night was," he paused, unable to come up with the appropriate words for what had been a most wondrous experience. He chose humour instead and said, "You know, according to the sisters at the monastery, I should have been struck by lightning by now."

Brenna's expression clouded and she reached forward to touch two fingers to the small scars on his chest and she said, "I think you already have been…" She looked up at him again and her lip quivered and her eyes filled.

Alistair covered her fingers with his own and said, "Oh, Brenna, don't…" He felt so awkward, he'd not meant to make her cry! He leaned forward and took her into his arms and held her as she trembled softly against his chest. She was normally such a self possessed woman, it was hard to remember that she was actually younger than him and in many ways, much more innocent. Though she had lost all her brothers to the darkspawn, she'd been sheltered by her father, sent north with her mother to stay with family until the Blight had been defeated.

He stroked her back and pressed his lips to the top of her head and after a few moments she calmed and lifted her face and said, "I'm sorry, Alistair, so much has happened in so short a time."

He kissed the tip of her nose and said, "No, it is I who should apologise, my sense of humour…" he shrugged lightly and started again, "I'm sorry, Brenna."

He met her lips then and all thoughts of misery were banished as they kissed. Her usual sweet mood soon returned and before long he felt her giggle against his lips. He opened his eyes to see that familiar twinkle had been restored to hers and she said, "So you really think the Maker will reprove us for not waiting?"

He smiled and said, "Given the circumstances, I hope he'll forgo the usual punishment."

She winked and whispered, "Shall we tempt him again?"

Alistair grinned widely and said, "Oh, yes, most definitely…"

* * *

When Alistair slipped outside his quarters, dressed and ready for the day, he was greeted by four guards who fell into a square formation about him and escorted him to his study. He glanced from one to the other as he walked and said, "Will you gentleman be following me everywhere?"

Without turning one of the guards said, "Commander's orders, your Majesty."

Alistair raised a brow and wondered which commander he had to thank for his cumbersome escort – Oghren or Aedan. He suspected the latter.

He was not allowed to enter his study. The lead guard bade him wait outside the door as the room was thoroughly checked. Alistair found himself suppressing a chuckle as the couch was lifted and put back down – he'd spied several balled up papers beneath it, those would be the pages he'd been missing from one of the contracts on his desk.

The room was given the all clear and just as he was about to enter, Leliana and Zevran appeared at the end of the hallway. They were talking together in hushed tones, but both looked up as they approached. Alistair stepped forward to greet them and was surprised when Leliana engulfed him in a tight hug. She let him go and then patted his arm awkwardly and smiled, saying, "I'm so happy to see you well, Alistair."

Zevran settled for a grasp on the shoulder and a pat on the back, but Alistair noted he carried the very same sentiment in his eyes…along with something else, something much darker.

"It is good to see you Zev, thank you for coming," he said and Zev waved hand in a dismissive gesture and said, "Of course."

Zevran then stepped away and gestured the study saying, "We have much to discuss."

Alistair raised a brow and said, "Yes, please, come in…"

They entered the study and settled themselves down, Alistair behind the desk, Leliana and Zevran in front and Alistair turned to Leliana and said, "Aedan and Oghren have left for Orzimmar?"

Leliana nodded and handed him a note. When he opened it, he couldn't help the short laugh that followed. It was from Aedan and it confirmed his suspicions about the guard. He looked up and smiled at Leliana as he said, "For someone who writes such terse reports, he's quite eloquent here…"

Leliana grinned and nodded as she replied, "He has his moments."

Alistair put the note aside and studied Zevran. The former crow was occupying the chair usually reserved for Eamon. As suddenly as the thought occurred, Alistair felt all the lightness of the morning drop away and a weight settle upon his shoulders. He bit his lip and glanced back at Leliana and said, "Ah…have arrangements been made for," his voice caught and he tried again, "For Eamon? How does Isolde fair?"

"She is so sad, Alistair, I will not lie to you. If you felt up to seeing her later today," Leliana hesitated. It was well known that he and Isolde had an uneasy relationship at best. When she continued speaking, Leliana moved on to funeral arrangements, "The funeral will be in two days, which will give Bann Teagan time to arrive."

Alistair nodded and made some notes. He then turned to Zevran and said, "Right, now let's hear the news that has a former Crow looking so disturbed."

Zevran leaned forward in his chair and said, "There is an organization in Tevinter called the Brethren. They are akin to the Crows only in that they practice the same art: assassination. There the similarity ends. The Brethren recruit from other societies and it is rumoured that they take only the best. Usually, we would not have even known they had been here…" Zevran paused and spread his hands, "Er, except for what they left behind, of course."

He didn't have to mention that what should have been left behind was Alistair's dead body. Alistair shivered and gestured for Zevran to continue.

"The loyalty of your staff, your guards, and Oghren's diligence in training your men…these are what you have to thank for catching even one of these assassins." Zevran said.

Alistair's brow quirked and he said in a hushed tone, "One?"

Zevran nodded, "There were five of them."

Alistair felt sick. Five assassins had been lurking in and around the palace that night? _Five_? He put his hands flat to the desk and leaned upon them for a moment, catching his breath before whispering, "Holy Maker…how did you find this out, Zev? Last I heard the assassin was not talking."

And again a shudder passed through Alistair's shoulders and down his spine as he remembered the haunted look in Aedan's eyes yesterday morning as the warrior who had fought darkspawn and abominations, things that would give ordinary men nightmares, described what had been done to the assassin, all to no avail.

"My methods…" Zevran waved a hand once again and dismissed the question, "…they are not important. What is important, however, is who contracted them, the answer to which I think adequately satisfies why."

Leliana sat forward in her chair then and Alistair felt his own back straightening as he pushed back off the desk and sat up, unable to tear his eyes from Zevran's face.

The former Crow said one word, a name, "Anora."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Throughout the morning Alistair found himself thinking alternately of three people: Anora, Aedan, and Brenna. Shock didn't even being to describe what he felt at finding out that the former queen was responsible for the attempt on his life. Instead, there had been almost an absence of feeling, which had quickly been replaced by two competing emotions, horror and regret. Aedan might have suspected she'd be capable of such treachery, but Alistair had thought her humbled after the Landsmeet. Perhaps he should have had her executed instead of exiled. But oddly, it had been Aedan who had stayed his hand in that matter. Raw from seeing Harrowmont suffer the same fate, the warrior had quietly asked Alistair to show mercy.

Alistair shivered as he remembered one particular conversation he'd had with Aedan before the Landsmeet. Aedan had entered the Arl's study so silently, he might have been a rogue, and asked Alistair if they could talk. One look at his fellow warden's face had been enough to let him know Aedan did not intend to discuss the weather.

Aedan had spread his hands and said, "I'm only going to ask this once. You give me your answer and then we'll forget I ever asked it, alright?"

Alistair quirked a brow, "If you already know my answer, why are you asking me the question?"

"Because I said I would."

Alistair nodded and waited for the question.

"Would you consider marrying Anora?" Aedan asked.

"No."

Alistair couldn't deny the thought hadn't occurred to him also. One of the reasons Eamon was driving him toward the throne was for the purpose of uniting Ferelden. A political alliance with Anora might well have been one way to achieve this. But to Alistair's mind, if he had to be King, it would be on his own terms. He did not want to be a replacement for Cailan, either on the throne or in Anora's bed.

Aedan had nodded decisively, turned on his heel and left the study. They had never discussed it again.

Alistair could not even begin to entertain the thought of what life might have been like had he answered that question differently. He wouldn't have had the opportunity to fall in love, to experience the joy of knowing Brenna. Thoughts of Brenna calmed him now and allowed him to focus on what was important. He allowed his mind to drift back over the previous night and couldn't help the smile that relaxed his face.

He wanted nothing more than to put his feet up on the desk, fold his arms behind his head, lean back in his chair and daydream about the night before. Having found himself in such a position twice now, he had flushed with embarrassment and righted himself. Work needed to be done! He rested his elbows on the desk, dropped his head into his hands and massaged his temples. Focus, he told himself, focus.

Zevran and Leliana had left him alone just over an hour ago. Zevran was making travel arrangements. The former Crow used to tease him about needing his services one day. It had almost become a running joke between the two of them. Neither of them had smiled today while making plans to track down Anora.

"I will sail for Tevinter with the tide, Alistair. I will be taking my 'friend' Juilden with me. Do you want it known that I am investigating on your behalf…or not?" Zevran had asked delicately.

Alistair had considered a moment, but realized that in this he was completely out of his depth and had put the matter entirely into the elf's hands, "Do as you see fit, Zevran."

When Aedan found out he'd sent Zevran to Tevinter after Anora, he would be apoplectic. His note had begged Alistair to keep his guards close and Zevran closer.

Zevran was the logical choice to go, however. Alistair had seen Leliana biting her tongue during the exchange and he felt for her, he knew what was on her mind. She'd read Aedan's note. Had the circumstances been different, might she have offered to go with or in place of Zevran? Alistair did _not_ like to contemplate Aedan's reaction to finding out he'd sent his wife to Tevinter.

After Zevran had departed, Leliana had gone to spend time with her sons, a task he envied her. She had paused at the door and turned around and said, "You know you are welcome to come by and visit with the boys anytime, Alistair. Luke is eager to see that you are well."

Alistair had smiled and thanked her, "I will Leliana, perhaps later this afternoon. Tell Luke to set up a practice time at the Fort for us and I'll show him how fit I am."

Alistair dropped his hands back to the desk and pushed his papers around. Tightness spread upwards from his gut as he contemplated the task he had been avoiding. He needed to visit Isolde.

He looked up at a quiet knock and his door opened to admit Celene's chancellor, Bertram.

The Chancellor bobbed his head, "Your Majesty. Might I have a moment of your time?"

He had a bulging satchel under one arm and an officious expression on his face. Alistair tried for a smile, but his face felt a little stiff, he hoped his resulting grimace did not offend. He stood and offered his hand to Bertram and gestured the chancellor take a seat.

The meeting was blessedly brief; Bertram merely passed across documents for later perusal by himself and Leliana. In a few days he and Celene would meet more formally, monarch to monarch and go over the treaties together. Paperwork, such was the business of kingship.

After showing Bertram out Alistair collected his four person guard and walked towards the front entrance of the castle. At the door he was met by yet another four guards. He uttered a sigh of resignation and squinted against the sunlight that glinted off that armour as he paced within his steel and human cage toward Eamon's estate.

He stopped in the courtyard outside just took a few moments to compose himself. Thankfully four of his guards had stopped at the gates and he could actually see through the four that remained, not that there was much to look at; the kitchen door, the dusty ground beneath his feet and the stone walls of the estate. Alistair glanced from one thing to another until he realized he was simply marking time, delaying the inevitable. He went inside.

Surprise mingled with relief when he saw Brenna seated beside Isolde in the sitting room. Warmth bubbled within his chest at the sight of her and he smiled. She rose to greet him and he took her hands as he bent to kiss her cheek.

"My love," he said and Brenna returned the very same greeting, her voice low, but sweet.

They dropped their hands and as she returned to her seat he inclined his head toward Isolde and greeted her as he always had, "My Lady."

When had Isolde started to look so old? Alistair tried to hide his shock at her appearance. She was normally so carefully groomed, not a hair out of place. Now limp strands of hair worked loose from her bun and her face appeared to have acquired wrinkles. Alistair blinked and then noticed that Isolde was staring back at him staring at her. Oh Maker, how long had he been staring at her?

"Alistair," Isolde's eyes were dark with fury as she regarded him.

Alistair winced. He liked when Aedan, Leliana, or Zevran called him by name; it was a sign of their friendship. He did not like when Isolde did it. Her tone always relegated him to the role of a ten year old boy.

He stepped forward, awkwardly, and took her hand. "You know how much Eamon meant to me, Isolde. You have my deepest condolences."

Isolde did not answer right away. Instead she withdrew her hand from his and clasped it to her other, letting her hands fall in front of her and then she looked him in the eye. "You! I blame you for this, Alistair."

Brenna gasped and brought her hands to her lips, her eyes wide with shock. Though he'd been expecting this, it still caused him to suck in his breath. Clamping his teeth together, Alistair mentally prepared to meet the storm.

"He should have been retired. But you needed such hand holding Alistair. I don't know why he insisted on making you King!"

Alistair rocked back at the bitterness in her tone and what she said. This he had not expected.

He opened his mouth to refute her words but she rolled right over him, "You should have left Anora on the throne. It was well known she was the one directing Cailan's rule. You think just because you have Theirin blood that you have what it takes to be a King?"

Isolde advanced upon him then, her face twisted with wrath. She swung back one of her hands, palm open as she prepared to slap him. "And now Eamon is dead. Curse you!"

Alistair's warrior reflexes kicked in and he caught her hand mid swing. She tried to pull from his grip, but he held firm. She continued to pull and prepared to strike with her other hand as she cursed him. Brenna rose and restrained Isolde's other arm, gently, as if she were rendering support instead.

"Isolde!" He kept his voice firm and low, but loud enough to command her attention. "It was Anora, Isolde. Anora ordered the assassins."

Both the women's eyes widened then and both their mouths dropped open. Isolde sagged between them and Alistair loosened his grip on her hand. It fell limply to her side.

Alistair continued, "Whatever grievances you may have towards me, Isolde, we must put them aside for now. What is important here is that we bring Anora to justice and it will be done. I have Ferelden's best…" he paused as the thought how to describe Zevran and then continued, "resources invested in this."

Brenna raised her eyes to his, her expression one of confusion and despair. As the daughter of an Arl, she would have known both Anora and Cailan. Like Isolde, she would have spent time in Denerim and would have socialized with the former queen.

Isolde had been rendered speechless. She glanced to her side and Brenna took the cue and assisted her to a seat, gently handing her down into the upholstered chair before summoning a servant to bring in refreshment.

Alistair met Brenna at the door and took her hands again. He gazed down into her lovely face and fought to keep his fingers from stroking the porcelain skin of her cheek. Her green eyes were dark and her delicate brow creased with worry.

Her voice was little more than a whisper as she asked, "This news is most shocking. Your friend, Zevran, he confirmed this?"

Zevran made Brenna nervous. She had met the former assassin on two occasions, both times in the company of Leliana. The bard was immune to Zevran's wicked humour, whereas Brenna was openly shocked by his manner.

Alistair let his thumbs rub over her knuckles as he nodded and said, "Yes." He didn't want to go into specific arrangements in front of Isolde, so he left it at that.

Brenna squeezed his hands and let go. "Why don't you leave Isolde to me, I'll take care of her."

Alistair frowned, "Are you sure?" but inwardly he was relieved by her suggestion.

Brenna nodded and smiled and said, "I'll see you this evening."

Alistair kissed her cheek once more, lightly, taking a moment to savor the feel of her soft skin against his lips before stepping back. He thought to bid farewell to Isolde, but the woman was starting sightlessly at her hands and he did not want to risk riling her up again. He simply backed away.

The noise and the bustle of the market district were a welcome relief. Alistair took several deep breaths as he waited for the tension in his chest to ease.

He considered wandering the stalls for a while, perhaps to choose a gift for his future wife. His face creased into a smile as he recalled shopping trips with his companions. Leliana had always been after ribbons, Wynne had always wanted books. Zevran's desires were always more furtive and he never transacted business in public. Oghren liked to wait at the Gnawed Noble. Shale had been fascinated by Wades Emporium and had continued to visit the armour smiths even after Aedan had been banned from the store. Sten followed Aedan and Aedan followed Leliana. Shopkeepers were often intimidated by the bard's escort. Alistair's smile became an outright grin as he recalled days past.

But now he was King and wandering the market district was an exercise he did not feel up to today, especially with an eight man guard. That was probably more intimidation than any shopkeeper could bear.

Collecting his escort, Alistair decided that yet more fresh air and perhaps a little exercise were in order. He turned towards Fort Drakon.

When he arrived he immediately inquired if Luke had been by to schedule some time for them on the practice yard. The colonel had not seen the boy, which was unusual as Luke spent as much time as he could at the fort, often ducking out of lessons to be here. Perhaps Oghren and Aedan's absence had dampened his spirits.

Alistair visited the armory and donned his practice armour. This set was not gold and did not proclaim him the King of Ferelden. He liked wearing this non-descript uniform and liked to think he could blend in with the guards if he so desired.

Sweat beaded his brow and though he occasionally felt a slight pull in his chest, Alistair enjoyed the exercise. He swung at a practice dummy for a while and then sparred one on one with some of the men. After two years, they knew not to pull their strikes or try to coddle favour with the king and he made the most of his work out. With the Empress of Orlais in the city and plans to for a wedding _and_ a funeral, his next workout might be days away.

His chest heaving with exertion, Alistair dropped to a bench and gratefully accepted some water from one of the men. He leaned back against the wall, spread his legs before him and enjoyed their easy company for a few minutes as he caught his breath.

Leliana rounded the corner of the yard, Riordan at her hip. She narrowed her eyes and peered about the practice ground. Alistair caught her eye and waved her over and her face relaxed a touch.

"Alistair, is Luke with you?" Her tone hinted at concern.

"No, the colonel hasn't seen him today. I assumed he was with you."

Leliana's face creased with worry and her eyes darkened. She drew in a quick breath and bit her lips together a moment before saying, "I haven't seen him since Aedan left this morning." Her voice rose towards the end and her shoulders hitched. "His tutors have not seen him either."

Alistair had only seen Leliana this upset once before – when she'd been parted from Aedan and believed her husband dead. This woman did not panic easily, but she was obviously coming close now. A coil of fear rose inside Alistair as he considered the possibilities. Zevran had mentioned five assassins. Could he have been wrong? His own breaths shortened and that little pull in his lung tightened as more nefarious thoughts entered his mind. Was Luke lying incapacitated somewhere? Had he been taken?

One look at Leliana's face reminded Alistair to take a deep breath. He put a hand on her shoulder and attempted a comforting squeeze. He smoothed a reassuring expression across his face and said, "I'll make sure the Fort is searched and then accompany you back to the palace. We'll find him Leli, wait here a moment."

As he gave instructions to the colonel Alistair fought against an awful sense of foreboding. Aedan may forgive him sending Zevran to Tevinter, but losing his son? Despite the warmth of the afternoon Alistair shivered.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Why had he asked Alistair to show mercy towards Anora? They should have executed her when they had the chance. A pounding pain lanced through his temples and Aedan had to consciously unclench his jaw. He balled up his fists instead. His stride lengthened as he tempted the miles once again with his anger, a method he had used on and off over the previous two years.

"Warden?" Oghren's voice came from behind him.

Aedan stopped and glanced over his shoulder as the dwarf jogged towards him.

"I know we started out a day late, but are we runnin' the whole way to Orzammar?" Oghren panted as he caught up.

The sun was still high in the sky and the day was warm despite the advancing season. Soon the weather would turn and sun would give way to rain, then snow. Aedan uncurled his fingers, relaxing his hands, and reached back to loosen his pack. He nodded to a copse between the trees that lined the highway and said, "Let's take a break.

They shared a drink, Oghren grumbling over the fact it was water, not ale, and chatted idly.

"If the weather stays this fine, we should reach Orzammar day after tomorrow," Aedan noted.

"Yeah," Oghren agreed around a mouthful of dried meat. Aedan knew it wasn't nug, but every time he saw the dwarf chew one of those leathery strips he couldn't help the mixture of amusement and disgust that warred within. Leliana was very protective of her pets around the dwarf.

"They won't start the Proving without us, Warden," Oghren continued. "Don't you be worrying yourself on that score."

Aedan waved a hand, "I'm not. It's Alistair I worry for. I added another two guards to that contingent we talked about, and another four for when he goes outside. I left him some very detailed instructions. I told him not to leave the palace without armour, if he has to leave the palace at all. Which I suppose he'll have to," Aedan frowned and then continued, "I told him not to eat anything unusual and not to take on any new staff. I told him to take Zevran with him everywhere."

Aedan rubbed at the scar on his forehead and glanced over at Oghren before asking, "He's going to ignore everything I put in that note, isn't he?"

"Yeah," the dwarf agreed once again. Then he added, "Except for the bit about the guards. They know I'd have their hides if they didn't follow orders."

"He'll send Zevran to Tevinter, won't he?"

Oghren looked him in the eye, "Would you rather he sent your wife?"

With a gusty sigh Aedan reached for his pack once more, "Let's get a move on, I want to be back in Denerim within a fortnight."

Oghren heaved himself to his feet and grumbled, "Alright, but no running. Not everyone has legs as long as yours."

Aedan grunted and attempted to shorten his pace.

They made camp in a small clearing only a short distance off the highway. After a simple meal of rolls and a couple of apples – Aedan detested cooking and Oghren's pack always contained in inexhaustible supply of those leathery strips – Aedan let his thoughts drift as he gazed into the campfire.

It was a warm night and a fire wasn't a necessity, merely a comfort. A gentle fatigue burned in his calves and his fingers were a little numb from all the fist clenching, but he had succeeded in out pacing his anger. Oghren's complaints had drifted behind him all afternoon and thinking back over all the colourful language the dwarf had used to express his ire made Aedan chuckle.

He thought about Leliana next. Aedan's heart filled whenever he thought of his wife. As if she stood before him he could easily picture the blue of her twinkling eyes, the shine of her red hair. His shoulders relaxed and a happy warmth spread through his limbs as he remembered the previous evening.

He'd arrived back at their apartment to find the living room darkened. He had thought his family all asleep until he'd heard the soft sound of Leliana's voice as she sang a lullaby to Riordan. The bard's voice had always entranced Aedan and even after three years in her company chills still crept down his spine as she wove melodies of her own and fitted words effortlessly to her tunes.

Like everything else about her, Leliana's gift for song was beautiful. Aedan slipped into Riordan's room and came up behind her, circling her with his arms as she sang. She was holding the sleepy toddler against her shoulder and the three of them swayed together as they rocked him to sleep. To Aedan's mind, very little compared to sweet moments like that. He hugged his arms around his knees in memory.

"Practicin' a funeral dirge there, Warden?" A gruff voice interrupted his reverie.

Aedan shifted his eyes from the flames and focused on Oghren, "Huh?"

"That tuneless humming of yours, you'll not be accompanying Leliana anytime soon I hope!"

Mirth bubbled up and Aedan laughed, "I don't remember anyone asking you for an encore at your wedding, Oghren."

The dwarf grumbled, but the corners of his lips pulled up before he lifted his flask for another swig. Aedan peered curiously at the suspiciously clear liquid.

"Are you drinking water, Oghren?"

With a growl, Oghren replaced the stopper and replied, "The things we do for our women, Warden. You wear frilly shirts and I get my ale rationed!"

Aedan glanced down at his shirt and sighed with satisfaction at the sight of familiar and faded linen. His favourite shirt, it was a little threadbare in places from his armour, worn soft from use, and so old that Leliana never complained when he got it dirty. He worked his thumb through the hole that was just starting to appear near the wrist and grinned with pleasure.

"Stop that, yer makin' me jealous!" Oghren sucked at his flask as if by wishing he could turn water into ale.

"Felsi is a treasure, Oghren, as is Leliana. We'd be lost without them, eh?"

Oghren growled in response.

"You might be a father by the time we get back! Was Felsi terribly upset at you leaving?"

The dwarf waved his flask in the air and said, "Are you kidding? She practically kicked me out of me own house." He continued to grumble and Aedan thought he heard the word 'bronto' in there somewhere. He chuckled.

"Are you hoping for a boy or a girl?" he asked.

"You know, Warden, I don't really mind, so long as it's healthy," Oghren replied in an oddly gentle and wistful tone.

Aedan could only nod in agreement, he'd felt much the same way.

The next day dawned bright and clear and Aedan matched his pace to Oghren's. They chatted amiably as they walked, sometimes reminiscing on old times and sometimes sharing their hopes for the future. It had been a while since Aedan had spent so much time in the company of the dwarf and he enjoyed himself. Oghren had a unique perspective on everything.

As the sun began to slip behind the Frostbacks Aedan caught the familiar tang of smoke upon the evening air. Picking out a faint grey wisp above the trees, Aedan pointed it out to Oghren, "Looks like we may have company tonight. Shall we see who else is on the road?"

The familiar grouping about the campfire lifted Aedan's spirits. He'd wondered if and hoped they might run into some of his Wardens on the road. Kayley slipped from between the trees as they approached and crossed her arms in salute, saying, "Commander," by way of greeting.

Aedan returned her gesture and then grinned and slipped an arm about the girl's shoulders and hugged her to his side. He wasn't so informal with all of Ferelden's Wardens, but he had a soft spot for the elven rogue.

Philippe rose from the fireside and strode forward, arms outstretched. Aedan hugged his Senior Warden and exchanged fond pats on the shoulder, grasps of hands and salutes with the rest of the patrol. Taren was another warden he hugged by way of greeting. The slender mage returned his hug warmly and asked after Leliana.

"She is well, Taren, thank you for asking. She will be pleased to see you in Denerim at the end of the month." Aedan turned and addressed the remainder of his comment to the wardens in general, "If the darkspawn cooperate."

Flasks, canteens and a wineskin were raised in a toast to his sentiment and Oghren was invited to share in the passing skin of wine. With a gravely laugh the dwarf sat down and accepted his turn, sighing gratefully. He shot Aedan a look that said, 'I won't tell if you won't.'

Aedan grinned and winked in return as he sat before the fire. He refused the wine as it passed him, preferring ale himself.

Philippe sat next to him and said quietly, "What news, Commander?"

The smile slipped from his face and a coil of dread unwound in his gut as Aedan realized what news he had to share with his second. He shook his head slowly and looked up into Philippe's now worried features, "The news is dire, Philippe. An attempt was made on Alistair's life." His nails bit into his palms as he clenched his fists, "Eamon is dead and Anora is behind it all."

His voice had been low, but silence fall around the campfire as he spoke. All eyes rested upon him as he continued, "One of the assassins was caught and interrogated."

Aedan glanced around for Kayley, but she had slipped back into the trees, so he continued, "Zevran is in Denerim, he was able to identify the assassin."

Philippe shook his head sadly and his shoulders slumped as he responded, "Aedan, this news is beyond anything I might have expected. You say Eamon is dead?"

Over the course of the next half hour Aedan related everything he knew about the incident: the particulars of Eamon's death, the identity of the assassin and what plans he and Zevran had discussed. He ended by stating, "I suspect Alistair will send Zevran to Tevinter to find out more about this Brethren."

"Brethren, you say?"

Aedan glanced up at the speaker, one of the newer wardens. His name was Runir and like Zevran, he was an Antivan rogue. But there the similarities ended. Runir had dark hair and dark, intense eyes and a tall, lithe build. His easy manner and good humour belied his menacing appearance, however, and he got along well with all the wardens.

"You know of them?" Aedan asked.

Runir nodded, his face clouded with concern. "Anora must not be without resources. The Brethren are not your usual assassins for hire."

Aedan nodded slowly, Zevran had told him as much before he'd left the city. He couldn't help the prickle of fear that tingled along his arms and the back of his neck as he heard this confirmation. Shaking it off, he turned back to his second and said, "I hope your news is better, Philippe."

Philippe's brows drew together in thought before he spoke. "There are some odd stories coming from the Bannorn. No talk of darkspawn, but entire families have been neither seen, nor heard from over the past few weeks. We are on our way down there to investigate."

The Orlesian lifted his eyes to meet Aedan's as he added, "Thedas was a different place when I was a young man. I never would have hoped for and encounter with simple bandits before the Blight."

Although darkspawn activity had tapered off of late, the newer, more organized breed were tougher to eradicate and even harder to understand. Aedan shivered slightly before reaching over to pat Philippe's shoulder, "Then I will hope for bandits too, my friend. I will be back this way within a week to ten days. Leave me a message at the next post if you find anything that needs my attention."

Philippe inclined his head, "As you wish, Commander."

The evening passed more pleasantly after that. This group of wardens included another man from Orlais, Marin. Besides being a swordsman of note, Marin could cook. Aedan often liked to joke he'd recruited the man for this ability alone.

Taren entertained them with a story after their meal and Aedan leaned back against his pack, arms behind his head and closed his eyes to listen. The mage did not have Leliana's voice, but had an inexhaustible supply of tales. Aedan had long ago decided that Taren must have memorized every book in the Circle Tower library.

As was his habit, Aedan allowed his mind to drift. Evenings spent around a campfire with his companions were one of life's greatest pleasures. He wished Leliana were with them and he wondered if Riordan traveled well. He was mentally planning out a trip with his family when he heard raised voices and the sound of footsteps approaching the campfire.

He sat up, blinking, expecting to greet yet more travelers from the highway. It was not unusual for the wardens' fire to draw unexpected visitors. Travelers and merchants liked to share their evenings and sometimes the road with Ferelden's wardens.

Kayley emerged from the trees and she had her arm fastened about the upper arm of Luke. Aedan's mouth dropped open in astonishment as he recognised his adopted son and he pushed himself to his feet. Momentarily speechless, he closed and opened his mouth a few more times.

"Luke!" He finally got out and then added, "What are you doing here?"

The boy flinched and Aedan realized belatedly that he'd nearly yelled. The shock at seeing Luke had been so great! Aedan quickly understood the boy must have been following him for the past two days. He looked him over from head to toe and saw that Luke was disheveled, dirty and had dark circles beneath his eyes. Dismissing Kayley with a gentle nod, he strode over to Luke and laid a hand on the boy's shoulder, "I'm sorry, son, the surprise of seeing you."

Luke still had not spoken and when he looked up to meet Aedan's eyes, he looked tired, hungry and lonely. Aedan pulled him into a hug and was relieved when he felt the boy's shoulders relax. Luke could be awkward about being held.

"Ah, Luke, I'm going to guess Leliana does _not_ know you are here," Aedan murmured and Luke shook his head.

A quiet hum rose about the campfire behind him as conversations resumed and Taren once again took up his tale. Aedan released Luke and gestured him toward the fire, "Have you eaten?"

Luke shook his head and mumbled, "No."

The rest of the wardens took this as their cue to greet the boy. Luke was known to all of them. His face started to clear and a tentative smile played about his mouth as he was passed from one man to the other and made much over. He was alternately called brave and stupid and he took it all well. The tones of voice were all affectionate.

Aedan glanced over at Luke as he moved around the fire. The boy had a sword and dagger at his back and Aedan noted it was the dagger he'd given the boy two years ago, not long after they'd first met. Luke treasured that dagger and was rarely without it. A rather limp pack hung from his between his blades.

A couple of the wardens helped Luke get settled and passed him some food and some drink and the evening continued as if uninterrupted until Taren finished his story. Aedan sat chewing his lip and rubbing at his scar as he thought about Leliana. His wife would be beside herself with worry. He was two days from Denerim and one day from Orzammar.

Philippe moved up beside him and said quietly, "I will send Runir to Denerim, Aedan. Why not take the boy to Orzammar with you. I think the trip would be good for him and you. You are always lamenting the lack of time with your family. Take this as a blessing."

Aedan met Philippe's eyes, "Leli must be so upset, Philippe." As he said the words he could feel her pain. Leliana loved Luke as if he were her own son – they both did. The thought that she might be suffering such anxiety made his heart twist in sympathy.

But he could also see the sense in Philippe's words. His trip to Orzammar was best not put off any longer and Luke _would_ enjoy the Proving. He would be turning sixteen soon and despite the circumstances Aedan found himself looking forward to Luke's company. He nodded finally and let his hands drop to his lap.

"Actually, sending Runir to Denerim is probably also a blessing. It will be good to know another I can trust is at the King's back," Aedan conceded.

Philippe nodded his agreement and added, "Then it is settled. Runir is a sound man and he will do his best."

Before the wardens found their respective bedrolls Aedan had a quiet word with Luke. The expression on the boy's face when he told him he could accompany him to Orzammar tugged at Aedan's heart. Luke's eyes widened with delight and then he added a respectful nod and promised to be no trouble.

Aedan ruffled his hair and said, "We're both going to be in trouble when we get back to Denerim, Luke. You know that, don't you? Leliana can be quite fearsome when she's in a temper."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Leliana's jaw dropped and her mouth worked silently for a moment. She held a note from Aedan. Though he knew the gist of it, Alistair could only hope the tone of her missive was gentler than the one he'd received. A resigned sigh passed his lips as he recalled his new set of 'instructions'. Amongst the list, which provided for his having ignored the first note, were two fervent pleas: do not let Runir out of his sight and placate Leliana if he could.

"Orzammar?" She stamped her foot and said, "I don't know which one of them to be more angry with!"

Leliana read the note again and then dropped her hand and literally threw herself into the chair in front of his desk.

"I don't understand why Luke would make me worry like this!"

Her red-rimmed eyes shone with tears. She covered her face with her hands and bent her head forward. Her shoulders shook.

Alistair stood, walked around to sit next to her and dropped a hand lightly on her shoulder. His chancellor had suffered two sleepless nights as the palace had been searched and guards questioned. The lack of evidence regarding foul play, or otherwise, had hardly been a comfort to either of them.

Once again, Brenna had been a treasure. Upon returning from the Guerrin estate she had immediately set to comforting Leliana. Then yesterday his betrothed had taken Riordan out to play for several hours as Leliana had napped. In a week of horror and strife, it had been the most pleasurable afternoon he'd spent for a while. He had elected to join her for a short break and Brenna ordered a picnic as together they watched Riordan totter about the garden.

"Should he be putting that in his mouth?"

Brenna smiled. "It's just a flower, Alistair, it won't kill him. He'll probably spit it out in a minute."

True to her word, Riordan's brow wrinkled as he leaned forward and spat the offending mush of petals at his feet.

Smiles turned to laughter as they watched the little boy then squat down and start poking the soggy flower with a curious finger.

Alistair reached over and took Brenna's hand in his. Their eyes met and he gazed at her sweet face, trying to picture a child of their own.

She tilted her head to one side and softly echoed his thoughts. "I hope our child has your hair."

Reaching to run his fingers along her check, brushing silky strands of dark hair away from her eyes, he replied, "I disagree."

Riordan tottered into view, small hand outstretched palm up and bearing the remains of his impromptu snack. Brenna gathered him up and sat him in her lap. A cloud slipped across the sun at just that moment and the garden fell into shadow.

Alistair shivered and his voice took on a more somber tone. "What if it we don't," he paused and rephrased. "What if I can't…"

"Shh," Brenna interjected softly. "Alistair, the world will not come to an end if you do not produce an heir."

"Well it certainly won't be from lack of trying," he quipped and wondered if his humour was ill placed, but thoughts such as these were uncomfortable and at times more trying than dealing with politics.

She smiled, her eyes glinting with pleasure at his comment. Then she reassured him once again. "We'll work something out. Perhaps we'll put this little one on the throne when you're done with it!"

Tension fled from his shoulders and his spirits lifted as Alistair allowed himself to laugh at her suggestion.

"Though I can certainly think of worse prospects for Riordan, I think our biggest opponent to that idea might be his father." He pictured Leliana's reaction and added, "And his mother. We'll keep this nefarious little plan to ourselves, eh?"

Brenna giggled and let Riordan free of her grasp and they both relaxed back to watch as the little boy marched straight back to the flower bed.

"Time for dessert?" Alistair asked and they had chuckled again.

Looking at Leliana now, Alistair understood her anxiety, frustration and her sadness. He was also fond of her children. While Riordan was undeniably cute, Luke was not without charm. When Aedan traveled Alistair enjoyed his sparring sessions with the older boy and could easily imagine sharing such pleasures with a son of his own one day.

He squeezed her shoulder and she looked up at him, the gathered tears spilling onto her cheeks. Her anger had faded and her face wore resignation now, mingled with relief at knowing Luke was at least safe.

Alistair took a deep breath and attempted to honour Aedan's plea.

"Despite the fact that none of this was planned, I think the trip will do them both a lot of good, Leliana. You know how Luke idolizes Aedan and he in turn regrets not being here often enough for the boy."

He paused and smiled. "I'm not sure I'd ever have believed I'd say this, but: Oghren is with them, and that is a good thing. Our dwarven Commander is as loyal to Aedan as he is to me, and to Ferelden. No harm will come to them, Leliana. They'll attend the Proving and possibly drink too much ale."

Leliana gasped and blinked and Alistair bit his tongue. Perhaps the bit about the ale had been a little too much.

"Oh, if he gets that boy drunk I'll…"

"Actually, I think Aedan is banned from Tapsters." Alistair quickly reminded her.

Her expression clouded further and Alistair spread his hands. "Um, should I just stop talking now?"

This got a chuckle. Leliana took his hand and squeezed it fondly. "No, you are right, Alistair, and I appreciate your words. You and Brenna have been so wonderful these past two days."

She wiped away her tears as she slipped the folded note into a pocket. With a tremulous but warm smile she added, "I'm so happy for you, Alistair. To think, in just over two weeks, you will be married!"

Alistair could not help the smile that appeared as he thought about his wedding.

"There is much still to plan," Leliana started and then her own smile faded. "Eamon's funeral is tomorrow."

Maker, what had become of them that one moment everyone was happy and the next they were plunged into despair. Alistair meet her gaze and felt the bleak mood slip over him too. Anora had effectively cast a pall over what should have been the happiest time of his life. Before continuing plans for his wedding, they had to attend a funeral.

* * *

Eamon's funeral would have been trying enough without the open animosity between himself and Isolde. The Arlessa's cold manner could be forgiven in light of her loss, but Alistair shivered before the quiet rage still present in her eyes. At the reception afterwards she pointedly ignored him. The most awkward moment occurred when introducing her to Empress Celene.

Isolde's complete lack of respect came across clearly when she looked down her nose at him as if he were still that boy of ten and dismissed him from her side. Celene's eyebrows arched at Isolde's manner and Alistair had caught a look of sympathy mingled with curiosity in the empress's face as she turned her attention toward the grieving widow. Celene had the manners not to mention the slight, but it had been noted, of that he was sure.

Taking Brenna's arm and leading her to a corner of the large hall that offered relative quiet he commented. "I wonder if the Empress realized her first visit to Ferelden would be fraught with so much intrigue and excitement."

Brenna chuckled softly. "I'm sure she feels right at home!"

Brenna's presence helped to sooth the misery and sadness associated with the reception and Alistair kept her at his side the entire evening.

After the funeral Runir accompanied him to his rooms. He entered the suite first as Alistair waited outside, patiently enclosed in his four man cage of steel.

After a few moments a scuffle could be heard. Tension curled in his stomach and the slight pull in his lung became more pronounced as Alistair gasped in a breath. He was no stranger to fear. A year of fighting darkspawn followed by two years of alternately pleasing and placating the Landsmeet should be enough to toughen any man's resolve. But this was personal. Someone was trying to kill him and as he well knew, persistence often paid off. A fine sheen of sweat broke across his brow and if not for the guards standing about him, he might have leaned against the wall for support. Runir appeared in the doorway holding the collar of yet another rather plain man.

How did these men achieve entrance to the palace? The halls were thick with guards and the walls bristled with sentries. This assassin tended more toward dark colouring. His eyes were so dark as to be fathomless and the blackness of his hair swallowed rather than reflected light. He had the most curious grey tinge to his skin.

"Comes from handling his poisons," Runir remarked when Alistair mentioned it.

Alistair nodded and gestured for the guards to escort the new prisoner to the fort. Runir relinquished his hold on the man and returned to the suite. He picked up a chair and placed it in the most shadowed corner of the room and dropped gracefully into it. From this vantage point the warden could watch the balcony, the door and, disconcertingly, Alistair's bed.

Alistair sat at the foot of the bed and studied his hands while waiting for his breath to slow and his head to stop spinning.

"I certainly don't mind if you invite your betrothed to your bed tonight, but perhaps the young lady would prefer not."

Alistair caught a shocked gasp before it passed his lips and managed to smile at the rogue. "Are all Antivan's so shocking or is this something you and Zevran work on in order to embarrass me?"

Runir laughed. It was a rich, warm sound and did much to relieve the chill of finding yet another assassin in the palace. "You are such an easy target, Alistair, and I don't mean for the purposes of assassination."

Runir slapped his thighs and laughed again. Alistair offered him a wry grin. The man's easy humour was a welcome release and the tension in his stomach began to unwind. He resigned himself to a night without his love. He consoled himself with the thought that he could probably use a full night's sleep anyway. A blush stole over his cheeks and his lips curved in a small smile. Not that his lack of sleep lately bothered him…

After a while he forgot the rogue was there. The man's presence could not be felt and he was altogether silent. He heard not a breath nor a stir of movement. He fell asleep thinking he was glad Runir was one of theirs and not of the Brethren.

The following day Alistair finally took Aedan's advice. The Warden Commander would be pleased to know he was wearing full armour.

Alistair shrugged and moved his neck. He ran a finger around the neckline, but couldn't get it down far enough to reach the itch. He glanced down, blinked and cursed. Why did he keep forgetting how bright and shiny and gold this armour was? Spots danced in front of his vision and he lowered his eyelids against the glare of the sun as he leaned back, attempting to rub his shoulder against the armour from the inside.

"Why are you fidgeting so much?" Brenna whispered, her tone amused.

When he glanced over at her, he could barely see the outline of her face. He grimaced and closed his eyes again, whispering back, "I'm itchy and my armour has blinded me!"

She giggled and patted his gauntleted hand, which he felt as a vague tapping. Her laughter and light tone raised his spirits and momentarily distracted him from his blindness and the incessant itching of his shoulder. Opening his eyes he smiled over at her, relieved to see her mirth was reflected in her eyes and that she looked rested and happy. He leaned toward her, kissing her cheek before moving his lips toward her ear and whispering, "Though I am happy to see you looking so well, my love, I would have preferred your company to that of Runir last night."

To his other side came a soft throat clearing sound and with the slightest of guilty flushes he inclined his head toward the empress and said, "Are you enjoying the tournament, Celene?"

The empress nodded and smiled widely, her eyes clearly indicating her pleasure in the spectacle. "Yes, I am, Alistair, though the event that most piques my interest is still to come."

His shining gold armour was not totally inappropriate to the day's events and the unseasonably warm weather perfectly suited the entertainment. The first round of the tournament was an open competition. Anyone who could lift a sword had been invited to test their mettle against the soldiers of Ferelden's army. Traditionally this was an exciting event, one that might raise a humble farmer or merchant's son to the attention of a noble looking to recruit knights.

Alistair looked forward to the second round: the best soldiers in Ferelden would be demonstrating their prowess in various feats of strength and combat. In the final event knights and captains of the army would duel in single combat for the title of Champion. To hear the talk at Fort Drakon, this event was the highlight of the tournament. Alistair's hands itched to be grasping his sword and shield. His skill and talent was widely known and greatly respected, but it would be inappropriate for him to participate. Besides, Aedan would have his hide if he tried.

As the second round started, Alistair felt a curious tension at his back, he glanced over his shoulder and caught Runir's eye. He grinned. The rogue's hands clenched in a familiar manner that prompted Alistair to comment. "Aedan would have your hide also."

Brenna and Celene exchanged confused glances as he and Runir shared a rueful chuckle.

A cheer erupted from the ranks of Ferelden's soldiers as one of their captains defeated the last knight and stepped forward to be named Champion. Oghren would be proud of his men.

The final event started and Celene leaned forward in her seat. Normally the naming of the Champion would signal the close of the tournament, but with the Orlesians in attendance it had been decided to add a final round. Celene had put forward two of her chevaliers to duel Ferelden's finest.

The first duel made exciting entertainment and a hush fell over the crowd as they watched. Alistair found himself fascinated by the difference in style between the two men. Though the chevalier's armour was more ornate and his weapons shone with a luster his opponent's did not quite match, his skill was clearly evident. The Ferelden knight only barely won the match, a victory well received by the people.

Celene merely smiled and nodded toward her second chevalier. A woman strode into the arena. She was startlingly attractive with skin almost as pale as Brenna's and eyes of a more intense green. Her hair shone about her shoulders, a thick wave of auburn tresses, before she twisted it neatly against the back of her neck and donned her helm. Sun glinted from her armour which shone with a unique brilliance. Alistair aimed a grin at Celene. The reason this chevalier had defied the usual custom by appearing before her helm was in place did not elude him. She clearly hoped to unsettle her opponent. Who would not be unsettled knowing that feminine face was beneath the helm?

It came as no surprise that she won the duel. But her skill matched her audacity and it was a fair match. The crowd enthusiastically cheered her win. The chevalier turned to face the royal box and pulled her helm from her head to acknowledge the empress and the sun caught the shine of metal and flashed around the stands. Alistair gasped and raised a hand as the light caught him in the eyes again and winced. He bent his head forward to rub at his eyes and found himself pushed down against his lap. A scream came from his left and a choking sound came from the right and as Alistair struggled against the weight on his back he saw Brenna fall to the floor beneath him, her hands clutched protectively over her head. Celene joined her, falling to her hands and knees behind the low wall that circled the front of the royal enclosure. The side of her face was streaked with blood.

Alistair gasped and braced himself to push upwards again only to hear Runir growl in his ear, "Your Majesty, please stay down." The rogue then shoved at his hips and helped him ease from the chair to the floor between the two women.

Screams now echoed around the stands and Alistair could hear the thunderous noise of many feet rushing towards the exits. He turned toward Brenna and touched her hands. "Are you alright, what did you see?"

She cringed and trembled beside him, her pale face taut with fear. Celene spoke from behind him.

"It seems your assassins are most persistent, Alistair. I think they have killed my chancellor."

Alistair turned about in the small space and glanced over Celene's shoulder. Bertram lay slumped sideways across his seat and that formerly occupied by the empress. From his throat sprouted two very familiar arrows


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Aedan watched with fond amusement as Luke caught his first sight of the underground marvel that was Orzammar. The boy stopped in the Hall of Heroes first and listened with quiet attentiveness as Oghren gruffly pointed out the statues of the various Paragons. As the dwarf approached the statue of Branka he fell silent.

Luke opened his mouth to ask about the Paragon and Aedan laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. When Luke looked up at him he shook his head softly and steered the boy towards the doors that led into Orzammar proper.

Glancing back over his shoulder he said to Luke, "That's Branka."

Luke nodded and they waited for Oghren in respectful silence. Luke had heard the story of the companion's adventures in Orzammar and the Deep Roads several times. That and the Siege of Denerim were his favourites. The boy had an insatiable thirst for knowledge regarding the darkspawn and how they were battled.

Oghren joined them shortly and they proceeded into the city. Luke stopped just inside the massive doors and just stared. Aedan's smile slipped a little as he remembered his first visit to the city of dwarves. No sooner had they stepped through these doors than they'd witnessed Orzammar's unique take on politics: A scuffle, an exchange of heated words and a brutal slaying all within minutes of their arrival. Given Oghren's good humour and easy going manner, it was hard to imagine the dwarves as the ruthless and cutthroat political adversaries they were.

Aedan glanced around the commons and appreciated Luke's perspective. Orzammar was nothing short of amazing. Memories flooded thick and fast – the horror of the Deep Roads, the anguish of crowning Bhelen King and Harrowmont's subsequent execution. But Orzammar also held some of his most precious memories. He and Leliana had spent their first night together in this city, and it was just over there, behind that merchant's stall that he'd declared his heart to her. Thoughts of his wife made his spirits lift and Aedan smiled broadly.

"Well, Luke, what do you think?" He looked down at the boy who had yet to stop gaping at the view.

Oghren answered first. "I never thought I'd miss the sodding sky, but there ya have it. Was it always so dark in here?"

"Wow."

Aedan grinned at Luke's final response. Though it lacked eloquence, it pretty well matched his own thoughts.

"Commander?"

Aedan turned at the new voice and saw Bhelen's second standing just to the side of their group. As always the dwarf's body language exuded a combination of officiousness and suspicion. Aedan raised a brow and approached, extending an arm. "Vartag, it's a pleasure to see you again."

Vartag Gavorn grasped his arm and nodded his head in greeting. He turned to Oghren and the two dwarves exchanged grunts. Vartag's eyes then rested on Luke and Aedan put a hand on his son's shoulder and introduced him. "This is my son, Luke. Luke, this is Vartag Gavorn, second to King Bhelen."

Vartag nodded toward the boy, but responded, "Actually, my official title is 'Advisor' now, Commander."

Aedan's mouth lifted in a small smile, an elevation in status was something all dwarves desired and Vartag seemed proud to hold such a coveted role in Orzammar politics. Aedan did not envy him…

"You are late! We were worried you might not make the Proving. Bhelen has had me waiting here for you all day." The advisor's tone rebuked them.

"An important task for such an important man!" Oghren's tone was less than flattering and Aedan winced.

"Perhaps we should visit with the King right away, Vartag?" Aedan asked, stepping in front of Oghren and placing a placatory hand on Vartag's shoulder.

"Follow me."

Before they reached the entrance to the Diamond Quarter they passed a food vendor and Oghren uttered a low moan. Aedan turned and saw he had stepped up and was placing an order.

"Oghren, I'm not sure if we have time…"

"Warden, I am not going in there on an empty stomach, just gimme a minute here."

Aedan had to admit to himself that the smell coming from the stall was very enticing. Roasted meat. Besides the one good meal Marin had provided the night they'd camped with his wardens, Aedan had been existing on bread, cheese and fruit. He hated to cook. But despite the cramping in his gut at the sight of real food, Aedan knew he would not be eating any of it, he couldn't bring himself to try nug.

Oghren stuffed dripping chunks between his lips as they continued walking and the expression on his face approached something disturbingly close to orgasmic. Luke tugged on his sleeve and said, "Can I try some? It smells so good!"

Aedan turned at the words and put out a hand just as a chunk of meat passed Luke's lips.

"No, Luke, don't!"

Luke bit down and chewed, his face clearly showing his pleasure in the flavour of that little roasted morsel. He swallowed.

"Aedan, can we buy more? It's the most delicious thing I've ever tasted! Please?"

Aedan's lips twitched and he bit back laughter. Oh, Maker, should he tell Luke what he'd just eaten?

"Glad to see yer appreciatin' the finest nug this side of the Dead Trenches, lad!"

Oghren heartily clapped Luke on the back and upended the dish he was holding, draining the last of the juices with a noisy slurp.

Luke turned an interesting shade of green. "Um, did you just say…nug?"

Aedan couldn't hold it back any longer, he laughed. Luke shot him and anguished looked and said, "I just ate Schmooples?"

Aedan bent forward and dropped his hands to his thighs. He was laughing so hard he couldn't stand upright. The series of expressions passing Luke's features only added to his amusement. The boy looked in turns sick, betrayed and confused. Aedan wondered which emotion would win out. Luke started swallowing convulsively and he quickly grabbed the boy's shoulder and let him to a gutter behind the stall.

When they returned to the main thoroughfare Luke glared at Oghren who had helped himself to another portion. The dwarf's lips and beard were greasy and his eyes were closed in pleasure, oblivious to Luke's angry look.

Aedan had to bite his lips again, and though he just knew it was the wrong thing to say, he couldn't help it. "Don't worry, son, I won't tell Leli!"

Oghren joined him in laughter then and they slapped each other's shoulders and then leaned upon one another in support. Luke stomped off in a huff.

Vartag appeared breathless beside Aedan. "Commander? What are you doing? I got all the way to the palace and you were not behind me!"

The advisor glanced at Oghren's greasy hands and face and added, "We would have fed you."

They continued toward the Diamond Quarter but stopped once again, much to Vartag's annoyance.

"Commander, I really must protest, Bhelen is waiting on your attendance!"

"Oh go tell him to stop wetting his sodding knickers. We'll get there when we get there! And start speakin' like a dwarf, man, this advisor thing is givin' you airs!"

Aedan blinked at the exchange and then chose to ignore it. He turned toward the vendor he wanted to see instead.

The dwarven merchant had his back to them, or rather his posterior. He was bent over a chest and appeared to dig frantically within it, muttering loudly.

"What business do you have with this Lyrium-touched fool?" Vartag asked.

Oghren growled and shouldered his way in front of the advisor and called, "Garin, get yer arse out of that chest!"

Aedan idly wondered if it were lack of ale, the roasted nug or the simple act of returning to Orzammar that had caused Oghren to revert to his more gruff personality.

Garin righted himself and looked upon his customers with pleasure. "Commander, Oghren! I have it ready, oh yes, it's ready!"

The dwarf rubbed his hands together with glee and his eyes took on a faraway look. He stood like that for a few moments before Aedan realized he'd have to catch the merchant's attention once again.

"Ah, Garin? We'd like to see it please."

"Hm, what? Oh, yes, right, let me see here." Once again the dwarf upended himself in the chest and Aedan despaired for the condition of the gift he planned to give Alistair on the occasion of his wedding.

He finally emerged with cloth wrapped bundle held reverently in his hands. He laid it on the table before them and drew the cloth away revealing a sword of breathtaking beauty. Aedan sighed in appreciation, almost afraid to touch the blade. He reached fingers forward and then hesitated. It was Maric's sword. The one they'd found at Ostagar and the very same sword he'd taken from Alistair's hands on the roof of Fort Drakon. The sword he had used to slay the archdemon.

The power released from the old God as he thrust the sword between its eye ridges, a strike so forceful he'd hit the stone floor beneath, had all but melted this beautiful sword. The runes had lost their power and the intricate inlay had disappeared.

Alistair had not appeared to mourn the loss of his father's sword, telling Aedan that Topsider's Honor was good enough for a Warden and a King, but Aedan knew it was the only thing his friend had of Maric. Now it was restored.

He finally touched the blade and he felt the power of the runes humming beneath his fingers. What a blade, what a sword! He looked up at Garin and offered his heart felt gratitude.

"Garin, it's beyond perfect, it's…I have not the words."

The merchant waved a hand. "It was nothing. I've worked more intricate pieces. Would you like to see something else?"

But Aedan barely heard the words as memories of the night he'd used this sword threatened to overtake him. The final battle, the searing pain, the fear of death. Shaking his head he took a deep breath and came back to the moment. Oghren had paid Garin and Vartag was literally hopping up and down as he waited to finish escorting them to the palace. Luke was holding the carefully wrapped sword, his face creased in an expression of seriousness.

Bhelen's ice blue eyes twinkled with genuine warmth and delight as he enthusiastically greeted Aedan and Oghren. He even extended a hand toward Luke when introduced and made much of the boy. Though marriage and fatherhood appeared to have softened the man, Aedan still recognised the energy and ruthlessness that were the hallmarks of Bhelen's rule. He was a formidable man and a strong ally.

Refreshments had indeed been laid out for them and he and Luke applied themselves happily to the less adventurous fare while Bhelen and his advisor looked over the trade documents he'd brought with him. They made no mention of the wrinkled state of the pages.

After the business concluded they were finally introduced to Bhelen's wife and newborn son. Aedan made all the right appreciative noises but couldn't help thinking Riordan was the superior 'specimen'. He grinned to himself at the thought and recognised his bias.

They were provided with accommodations at the palace and spent the evening quietly drinking ale in the company of the few deshyrs in attendance. Every time Luke not so subtly reached for a mug of ale Aedan stopped him with a glance.

"Leliana would never forgive me, son."

"Oh, Warden, lighten up, the lad is nearly sixteen!" Oghren put in.

Aedan raised a brow at Oghren and simply answered, "How thorough a report of your activities do you want Felsi to hear?"

Oghren waved a hand at him and belched. "What harm one taste? I've barely had more'n that m'self."

It was true. Oghren had studiously alternated sips of ale with generous quantities of water and had retained an unusual state of dignity throughout the entire evening.

Aedan studied Luke for a moment before finally nodding, his gut clenching. "One taste."

Luke's visage brightened and he eagerly lifted a mug to his lips. "Ugh!" He just as quickly set the mug back down and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I think I prefer nug."

The three of them roared with laughter.

* * *

Aedan glanced beside him and just basked in the glow of Luke's pleasure. Despite the worry they had probably caused Leliana, the boy's company had been nothing but a delight. Aedan enjoyed experiencing the world afresh through the eyes of a sixteen year old boy and this journey had finally given him the opportunity to spend time with Luke.

They had spent the day before touring Orzammar. They had visited the Shaperate and Luke had been suitably awed by the collection. They shopped for gifts and trinkets with which to bribe Leliana when they returned to Denerim. They visited with the fighters slated to appear in today's Proving. Finally they spent a quiet evening in Tapsters with old acquaintances of Oghren's. Aedan had been nervous upon entering the tavern, sure someone would recognise him as the drunken lout who had flung a dagger at the barkeep and fallen in a noble lady's lap. He had been recognised, but as Warden Commander and the Hero of Ferelden. He endured several toasts to the embarrassing title before retreating to a dark corner with his son. Oghren also appeared to have attained celebrity status as Commander of Ferelden's army and he modestly accepted congratulatory toasts and pats upon the back. In the spirit of the evening the dwarf had perhaps over indulged.

"My head feels like a genlock is banging against it from the inside. Is this what you surfacers call a hangover?"

Aedan shifted his glance from Luke's enjoyment of the Proving and gave Oghren a sympathetic pat on the arm. "The match will clear your head. You're up soon, shouldn't you go get ready?"

Oghren was slated to fight before him and Aedan couldn't keep his own excitement from his voice as his hands itched to be upon his swords. His legs bumped and down with energy, ready to engage in the ring.

Oghren grumbled and lumbered to his feet and disappeared behind them. The Proving Master finally announced Oghren's match and Aedan and Luke leaned forward against the railing. Aedan's grin and excitement matched that of his son as he waited for Oghren to appear. Announced as the Commander of Ferelden's armies, the dwarf strutted out with his huge axe held in the air. He was resplendent in the armour of Ferelden's Commander, Alistair's heraldry emblazoned upon his chest piece. Aedan's heart hitched with pride to see this representation and he clapped and cheered enthusiastically.

Oghren acquitted himself well in his match, winning with his unique combination of stamina and bravado. The audience cheered loudly and Oghren bowed before all, declaring his victory to the ancestors.

Aedan leapt to his feet and went to prepare for his own match. His opponent also dual wielded twin weapons, though unusually he favoured an axe in either hand, and held the title of current Proving Champion.

Not given to Oghren's theatrics Aedan merely strolled into the ring and bowed to the roaring crowd, glad his helm concealed the flushing of his cheeks. A Proving certainly generated more excitement than a battle with the darkspawn.

His opponent was introduced. "Orzammar's current Champion, veteran of ten Provings, Darat !"

Darat walked into the ring with a sedate and understudied manner and stepped immediately into place. Aedan dipped his head in the dwarf's direction and said, "It is an honour," before adopting his fighting stance, weapons at the ready.

The Proving Master yelled, "Fight!"

The dwarf rushed him and Aedan circled quickly to once side, sweeping both of his blades in a low cross, attempting to knock his opponent off balance. He struck steel and received a roar of approval from the crowd for achieving first blow.

Darat spun with uncanny speed and lashed out with a flurry of his wicked axes and Aedan felt the rush of air through the joints of his armour as he neatly sidestepped once again. The match became a game of cat and mouse then as they took each other's measure and discovered that their speed and skill were fairly evenly paced.

They exchanged strikes and parries then, testing each other's style. But just as Aedan felt he had a handle on the dwarf's abilities, his opponent surprised him, sweeping his axes forward in an arc. Aedan leaned back and felt a boot connect with his middle. He landed flat on his back. A pair of axes appeared, crossed, over his exposed neck. He conceded the match.

Aedan inwardly cursed at his own stupidity. The dwarf had cleverly held moves back, not showing his more ruthless streak until he was sure Aedan would be surprised. And he had been.

Darat offered him a hand and Aedan regained his feet. He continued to grasp the other man's gauntleted fist after he stood. "Thank you for the match, your title is well deserved."

They both removed their helms and the dwarf replied, "It was honor, Commander."

They exchanged smiles and turned to face the crowd together, though Aedan stepped to one side as Darat was proclaimed champion once more.

Aedan met Oghren and Luke as he exited the ring and they escorted him to the room provided for the equipping of armour and weapons. Luke recounted every moment of the match and Aedan listened with a grin playing about his mouth as the boy started offering suggestions on what he might have done differently.

"The boy has a talented eye."

Aedan looked up and saw Darat standing in the doorway. He rose to greet the champion and once again complimented him on his victory.

Darat modestly accepted his praise before saying, "So, you think my skills would have any use against the darkspawn?"

Oghren raised a brow and said, "Lookin' to become a warden are you?"

Darat nodded. "Aye." He then turned his attention back to Aedan and added, "I've been waiting to meet you for some time, Commander."

Aedan replied, "Please, call me Aedan."

Darat shook his head. "No, if I become a warden I'll be needin' to be more respectful than that. Commander it is!"

Aedan took the man's measure. There was no doubt he was skilled and his attitude was just right. He smiled as he realized he'd somehow managed to achieve every purpose he'd had in mind. He had delivered the trade agreements, he'd collected the wedding gift and he'd just recruited another Grey Warden.

He held out a hand and said, "I am honored to accept, Darat. Ferelden will always need wardens of your skill."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Fort Drakon now housed two unremarkable looking men. Alistair was beginning to understand why the Brethren had never recruited Zevran. The elf was far too memorable. Despite the fact Zevran could slip through shadow like any rogue, he could not slip through a crowd unnoticed.

They caught the archer due to an extraordinary stroke of luck. The panicked crowd blocked the exits to the tournament for close to an hour allowing Runir to weave stealthily through the tightly packed people until he caught sight of a likely suspect, which he did. The archer had not been stupid enough to try and leave with his bow, no, it was by an odd turn of chance that Runir recognised the fellow. Another Antivan was escorted to the dungeons.

The archer almost didn't make it inside the fort alive. Celene's chevaliers confronted Alistair's soldiers outside the arena and a standoff ensued.

"This man is responsible for the death of the Chancellor, Bertram Avene. In the name of the Empress, I demand satisfaction!" The woman who had won the tournament stood before her chevaliers as she laid down her challenge.

A line of chevaliers formed in front of the prisoner and his guards. Alistair and Celene were sent for and when they arrived the discussion had spiraled out of control leaving tempers frayed.

Leliana stepped forward and with her voice, trained from years of storytelling, calmed both sides of the argument, calling for reason. "Gentlemen, ladies, let us work together here. This man gave insult to both our nations and caused much grief."

She nodded towards the chevaliers and indicated that they should fall in with the guard. "We will all escort this prisoner to the dungeons where he will be questioned to the satisfaction of both parties. Then we shall mediate upon his punishment."

Alistair glanced at Celene and winced at the dried blood that still streaked her cheek, though she had rubbed at it with a damp cloth. Her dress was ruined. Her eyes were clouded with grief, but she nodded at Leliana's words and added her assent to the plan.

Alistair indicated his approval also and the assassin had the dubious honour of being escorted to the fort by twenty men, two monarchs, a chancellor and a Grey Warden.

The questioning proved fruitless. As with the first assassin caught, these two men had obviously been paid for silence. Neither the threat of twenty men nor the massive torturer could sway them.

Alistair, Brenna, Celene and Leliana waiting in one of the sitting rooms toward the front of the fort. Leliana called for a basin of warm water and Brenna arranged for refreshments. The bard set to helping Celene clean her face and Brenna took the Empress's hands and spoke softly to her. Alistair sat awkwardly aside with the feeling he'd intruded upon some female ritual.

Glad of the few moments to himself Alistair ran over the past week in his mind. Maker, he was tired. The constant threat of assassination was wearing them all down. The flared tempers outside the arena had not been the first he'd witnessed over the past few days. Rubbing his temples with his fingers Alistair gave thanks those near and dear to him remained as yet unharmed and sent a quick prayer to the Maker for Bertram. They had a second funeral to plan.

Runir slipped into the room and stepped to Alistair's side. Alistair looked up and saw no answers in the rogue's expression. "Let me guess, they're not talking."

Runir shook his head and sat beside him. "Your Majesty we could tear these men apart, limb from limb, and not discover their secrets.

Brenna glanced over at the quiet words, her eyes wide in fear and Alistair attempted a small smile. He knew it sat awkwardly upon his lips, but she nodded silently and returned her attention to the empress.

"Then how did Zevran obtain as much information as he did?" As he asked the question, Alistair could not help the involuntary shiver that traveled down his spine. Zevran was a dangerous man, definitely, but the Crow had been a friend and confidant for so long the memory of his former profession tended to fade.

Runir's brows raised and he considered Alistair thoughtfully for several seconds before responding. "He did not tell you. No, I can see he did not."

The warden's gaze returned to his hands a moment, his brow creased in concentration. Alistair could see the man struggled with the urge to tell him something and waited patiently.

When he finally looked up his eyes held a faraway look. "Zevran is a man of many talents, but torture does not number among them. It is not his style. He favours the quick and painless kill. In his own way he is merciful."

This confirmed Alistair's own thoughts about the elf and though relieved to hear it, knew this did not answer his question. He nodded for Runir to continue.

"I know this because despite the fact I am not a Crow, I did grow up in the same brothel as Zevran. I have known him all my life. We have managed to maintain a friendship, of a sort, despite the divergence of our respective careers. There is only one man that knows Zevran better than I do, his brother, Juilden."

Shock barely covered the buzzing that crowded all thoughts from Alistair's mind. When Brenna glanced up and Leliana turned about sharply Alistair realized he'd gasped out loud at the news. He pulled himself together and nodded as reassuringly as he could at them before returning his attention to Runir.

"Are you sure? You know this for a fact?" His hands gripped the arms of the chair until his knuckles turned white. A new fear crept into his mind. He had just sent Zevran to Tevinter with the one man that may mean more to the elf than either himself or Aedan.

Runir reached forward and placed a gentle hand on his arm. "Your Majesty, I did not mean to alarm you. Perhaps I should have held my tongue."

"No, Runir, all information is valuable." Alistair glanced at the warden and their eyes met. He tried to read the rogue's expression, to determine if his fear was ill founded.

"Zevran swore and oath to the Commander, to Aedan, did he not?" Runir asked.

"Yes, but Aedan released him from it years ago."

"That is of little consequence. Zevran will honour it until the day he dies. Do not fear his purpose, Your Majesty."

Alistair's mind acknowledged these words, but his heart still held tightly to his fear.

The activity around Celene ceased and all three women stared across at them curiously. Alistair and Runir had conversed in low tones and their words had not reached beyond their chairs.

Celene arched a perfectly manicured brow and said, "What news, Alistair?"

"Nothing more than we already know, Celene. These assassins will not talk. Let us hope Zevran succeeds were we fail."

"Their silence assures their fate then. You will have them executed?"

Alistair swallowed over the lump in his throat and nodded mutely. Then, gathering his strength he nodded again, more forcefully. These men would die for their crimes, though he derived no pleasure or sense of satisfaction from such a duty.

* * *

Acrid smoke curled through the air causing Alistair's eyes to water. He made no attempt to dash the unwanted tears away, they were fitting to the occasion. Bertram's body had been reduced to little more than ash as the pyre burned low. Against all reason, the day was gloriously sunny with the lightest of breezes, the sort that would normally cool sun-kissed skin, which stirred the smoke just enough that the gathered crowd was shrouded in its haze.

Alistair felt a gentle nudge and looked down to find Brenna's fingers entwining with his. He glanced at her and noticed how pale her skin had become. She looked tired, her beautiful eyes ringed with dark circles and her cheeks hollowed. He knew just how she felt. In the two nights since the tournament no one had enjoyed a full night of sleep.

A festival in celebration of his upcoming wedding had been planned for today. They attended a funeral instead. The more somber occasion had not deterred the crowds, however, and most of Denerim had turned out to pay their respects to the Orlesian chancellor. Celene appeared taken aback by this showing and Leliana took the opportunity to assure her that all Ferelden felt her grief as if it were their own.

Afterwards they retired to the Landsmeet chamber for yet another reception. Ferelden's nobles took the time to pay their respects to the Orlesian empress, and she graciously accepted their offers of sympathy.

Alistair finally found a few moments alone with Celene. They sat quietly side by side for a short while, letting the murmur of gathered voices fill the silence. Celene turned to look at him.

"Your chancellor has a silvered tongue, Alistair. You did well in choosing a bard for this role."

Alistair nodded at the compliment. "Yet she speaks only the truth, Celene. Our countries are allies now, and I hope friends."

The empress took his hand. "This has certainly been the most interesting diplomatic visit of my career. There may be a call for vengeance when I return to Orlais. Not all of my own Lords and Ladies hold the same equanimity towards Ferelden as I do."

Alistair could not help his sharp intake of breath at her words. Not that he did not expect them, but because Celene openly discussed this with him now.

"Perhaps now is not the best time to discuss…"

"Worry not, dear Alistair, though I will have to soothe many ruffled feathers when I return to Orlais, I am Empress. I was not elected to this role. Like you, I fought for it. My will shall prevail."

A small curl of tension knotted in his gut. Thank the Maker he was friends with this woman and not enemies. She regarded him solemnly. "I do not blame Ferelden for the loss of my chancellor."

"I thank you for your words, Celene. We have worked too hard to forge this fragile peace. I will not let it be shattered by the foolish whim of an exiled and disgraced traitor. You have my word on that."

She patted the hand she still held and then released it. "Then our business is concluded and our diplomatic ties have been strengthened, Alistair."

In the back of Alistair's mind floated the offhand comment he had tossed at Leliana, had it only been days before? 'We do things differently here in Ferelden.' He allowed himself a smile and was heartened when Celene returned it.

* * *

No one had spoken for a couple of minutes and Alistair looked up from his plate. Everyone's face pointed downward as they concentrated on their food. The dinner party hosted only a few guests and would not be remarked upon as the most riotous of occasions.

Celene had elected not to stay for his wedding. Tomorrow she would return to Orlais. Alistair understood her reluctance to attend a celebration so soon after the death of her chancellor. That Bertram had been more than an advisor to Celene had not been immediately apparent. Leliana pointed it out to him.

"Would you not grieve for me in the same way, Alistair?"

Alistair's eyes widened in shock. "Of course I would Leliana, you are my dear friend!"

She nodded. "As Bertram was to Celene. A most taciturn fellow, certainly, but they were firm friends. In a country where no one says exactly what they mean, he was the rare man who spoke his mind. Her court will not miss him, but she will."

Leliana's face had clearly shown her sorrow and Alistair could only nod in quiet acknowledgement of her words.

He glanced at her now. She looked up and caught his eye. Her shoulders lifted in a little shrug. What was there to say? The tragic events of the previous two weeks had silenced even a bard.

Brenna spoke into the silence and her quiet voice seemed unnaturally high and girlish.

"To honour the peace between our two nations I have asked the kitchens to prepare a special dessert, Celene. A known Orlesian delicacy. It is a small gesture, but one I hope you will take as a token of the friendship we continue share."

Celene looked up and smiled at Brenna. "My dear, you are a treasure. I shall miss your company as I journey home."

The women regarded one another fondly and Alistair felt a small sense of peace as the spirits around the room began to lift. Even Isolde looked interested in the dessert being carried carefully into the dining room.

The silver tray bore an assortment of small dishes, each one of them subtly different to the other. The server set the tray beside the table and spoke quietly, her voice hushed with the shyness of addressing two monarchs.

"Would Your Majesty care for dessert?"

Brenna spoke up. "It is mousse, Alistair, and so delicately flavoured. Each of these dishes is just a little different from the other, a variety of chocolates enhanced with sweetness and bitterness. I hope you find them to your liking Celene."

The Empress smiled widely. "Another passion we share, Brenna, and such a wonderful gesture. Thank you."

Alistair glanced about the table and noted that all the women, particularly Isolde and Leliana were eyeing the tray with interest. Obviously this dish was known and well liked in Orlais. Everyone chose their flavour as each dish was described by the nervous young serving woman.

Alistair raised his glass in a final toast and everyone joined him. "To friendship."

He reached for his spoon.

"Alistair, no!" Runir's voice was thick and his lips appeared to be swollen.

Runir rose from his position across the table and strode toward Alistair, whisking the dish from the table and tossing it to the floor. The rogue then dropped to his knees, his face purpling as he clutched at his throat.

Leliana knocked her chair back in her haste and ran for the door. "Summon the healer, the mage, now!"

She ran over to Runir and knelt beside him, brushing the hair back from his face. "Sh, Runir, calm your breath, the healer is coming." She reached into a pocket of her dress and drew out a potion which she unstoppered and dribbled across his swollen lips.

Alistair witnessed all of this in stunned silence. He quickly glanced around the table and noted that everyone had dropped their spoons. Most of them had been in the act of replacing their glasses and had only just picked up their utensils when Runir had shouted. Most of them. Alistair looked to Brenna last and his heart pounded and rage exploded within him as he saw her drop her spoon. The merest smear of chocolate decorated her lower lip and her eyes widened. Her face began to suffuse with colour and she coughed and raised her hands to her throat.

"Alistair." Her voice croaked with panic and her shoulders hitched as she struggled to draw breath.

"No!" He stood, knocking his own chair back to the floor with a loud crash as he leaned down and swept her into his arms. He bent his head and whispered, his voice cracking with emotion, "Brenna, my love, hold on."

Leliana rose, her face twisted in anguish as she attempted to administer some of the same potion to Brenna.

"She barely tasted it, Alistair. Hold her still. Don't panic, Brenna, steady your breath."

Brenna's lips did not appear to be swelling to the same extent as Runir's and her face retained a semblance of normal colour. Alistair gathered her against his chest. At first she weighed little in his arms but as she began to let go her body grew heavier.

The mage arrived and immediately stepped to Alistair's side. He encouraged Alistair to set Brenna on the floor and crouched beside her. He felt at her throat and passed his hands over her face and down the centre of her torso. He looked up and nodded toward Leliana.

"The potion is good, she will recover."

Runir had started to convulse and the healer immediately shifted his attention to the rogue. He waved his hands up and down the man's body, chanting loudly. Sweat stood out upon his brow and his shoulders trembled as he waged war with the poison coursing through Runir's system. Finally he slumped forward, resting his hands upon his patient for support and took a deep shuddering breath.

Runir had stopped jerking about and his eyes opened as he gasped in a short breath.

"Runir, are you well? Can you draw breath?" Leliana's voice was tinged with deep concern.

The rogue took a few more experimental breaths and flicked his eyes toward Leliana. He nodded and his voice rasped quietly.

"I always knew my love of chocolate would be the death of me." His eyes lost their focus and his head dropped to the side. He was alive, but barely.

Though Leliana's face bore a tremulous smile Alistair failed to see the humour in the situation. Rage and fury flared within him, building until he could no longer hold it in.

"I have had enough! I refuse to be under siege in my own home!"

He stepped to the silver platter and swept it from the small table, the clatter and shatter of dishes barely registering as he spun towards the guards clustered about the door to the dining room.

"Dismiss all the staff from the castle. Now! Have all the guards brought to the Landsmeet chamber. I would meet with each and every one of my men."

Isolde cleared her throat. "Alistair, is that wise?"

He wheeled upon her. "If you believe our poisoner is still among us, you are a bigger fool than I have been."

Alistair then dropped to the floor beside Brenna and slipped his arms beneath her shoulders and hips once again, lifting her. He cradled her against his chest. Her eyes were open but unfocused and her face was entirely too pale. He dropped kisses onto her forehead and cheek. He was about to touch his lips to hers when Leliana dropped hand on his shoulder.

"Alistair, don't, we must clean her mouth first."

Being denied the taste of his love's lips was the final straw. His shoulders shook, his breath caught and Alistair cried.

* * *

_A/N: It's been a temptation to switch to Zevran's point of view throughout this tale, but the familiar Alistair/Aedan swap lulled me into complacency. Zevran's story has been developing in the back of my mind as I write this, however, and I intend to do him justice! I will write a companion piece to this when I am done._

_How tempting was it to kill Isolde in this chapter? VERY. But though I knew most of your would cheer my vindictiveness, such an act would serve little purpose in the story. So she lives, for now._


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Luke's back sported a brand new sword when they left Orzammar. The boy kept reaching over his shoulder to stroke the hilt and drew the blade at every opportunity to admire the heft and shine of it. Aedan had decided to treat him to an early birthday present and the sheer joy on Luke's face as he admired his new sword made the purchase worth more than its weight in gold.

Two days of travel lay behind them and with any luck only one day before them. Aedan could not conceal his eagerness to return to Denerim. He worried constantly about Alistair, Brenna and of course, Leliana. Oghren did his best to reassure him that between his soldiers and Runir, Alistair was in secure company.

Had Alistair sent Zevran to Tevinter and if so, what had the former assassin found? Could he thwart the plot against Alistair? Unconsciously he quickened his stride.

"Warden!" Oghren panted ad he ran up beside him and rapped a gauntleted fist against his arm. "Can we take a break? You're wearing out these dwarven legs."

Aedan looked over his shoulder and saw that once again he'd outpaced his companions. Darat lagged behind Oghren and even Luke showed signs of fatigue.

"We'll be at the message post in half an hour, we'll stop there."

With a nod Oghren fell back and Aedan resumed his stride, letting his mind wander once more. He had been trying to compose a suitable response to the anger he expected from Leliana. Rationally he knew she could not fault him for Luke's actions, but despite enjoying the boy's company he had also second guessed his decision to take him to Orzammar. Perhaps he should have sent him back to Denerim with Runir? Would Leliana understand his desire to keep Luke close?

Squaring his shoulders he decided it would be alright. So long as he brought Luke home safe and sound, Leliana would forgive him. She was level headed and she trusted him. He knew that, just as he trusted her.

He looked up and caught site of the familiar cairn of stones that marked the message post. A booted foot protruded from behind the short pile of rock. Aedan quickened his step again to a chorus of grunts and cries from the two dwarves.

The foot moved and Aedan broke into a run, rounding the cairn of stones just as one of his wardens stood up. Aedan stopped short, chest rising and falling with panted breath. "Erald?"

"Commander! Thank the Maker you are here! Come, we are camped a ways away. Philippe asked me to wait by the road for you."

The warden limped toward him and crossed his arms in salute. Aedan caught his shoulder and steadied him. "Maker, what happened to you?"

"It's bad, Commander, those things." Erald shivered and shook his head. "Best let Philippe tell you all at once."

Luke, Oghren and Darat had caught up to them. Luke's face lifted at the sight of the familiar warden and then clouded at the man's obviously injured state.

Aedan offered his arm as support and the small group followed Erald off the road and into the woods. They walked for close to an hour before coming to the warden's camp. No jovial gathering greeted them this time. The wardens reclined about the small fire were a tired and dispirited looking group.

Philippe pushed himself to his feet and walked slowly over to greet him and Aedan reached out to lay a hand on his second's shoulder. "Philippe."

Philippe looked past him, his expression curious and Aedan remembered he had a new recruit. He stepped aside and turned, indicating that Darat should come forward.

He gestured the group. "This is Darat, Champion of the Proving. He is our newest recruit. Darat, these are Ferelden's wardens."

Aedan started with his second. "This is Philippe, my second." Then he continued around the campfire, indicating each warden in turn. "Taren, Kayley, Marin and Erald. Patrols usually comprise six wardens, but Runir was sent to Denerim." Aedan's eyes alighted on Luke and they exchanged a rueful smile.

Darat took Philippe's offered arm and then moved around the circle of wardens, receiving grins and shoulder thumps by way of welcome.

Aedan returned his attention to Philippe. "Why are you camped so far from the road?"

"To discourage visitors, Commander. I pray all travelers stay upon the road this night and do not venture toward this forsaken place."

Despite the warmth of the fire, coldness began to spread throughout Aedan's body as he settled down beside Philippe. He turned to his second. "You are talking about the village you were investigating? Tell me everything."

"They are all tainted, Commander, each and every one of them. The village is half a day from here. As we approached one of them came to greet us."

"Greet you?" Oghren's bushy brows nearly met his hairline.

Philippe shuddered visibly before he continued. "Yes. It, he, was quite civil…at first. They wanted to be left in peace. They wanted no contact with the outside. Maker, Commander, he was a ghoul, so tainted his skin was all but black and those eyes! Yet he still spoke as a man."

Aedan's brows rose. He thought of Hespith and Ruck and his stomach cramped. "What did you do?"

Philippe shook his head wearily. "He was the only one in the village with a lick of sense, Commander. We made camp not far away that night." Philippe balled up his fist and thumped the ground. "So foolish, I thought if they had sent someone to parlay they would be unlikely to attack us outright. I was wrong."

The older warden glanced across the fire at Taren and nodded in the mage's direction. "If not for Taren we may all have perished that night. They outnumbered us three to one. They tried to drag Erald away with them! We killed them all and then he came back, the civil one, and he implored us to stop killing his people, but Aedan, they were mindless!"

Philippe always called him by name when he was upset. Aedan did not mind, he tended to be informal with his wardens, but now it scared him. He'd never seen his second so shaken, so beaten down. He glanced around the fire at the rest of his wardens, they all looked haunted. He looked to Oghren and Darat and then finally his eyes rested upon Luke. He needed to get the boy away from here as soon as possible.

He turned back to Philippe and gestured for the man to continue.

"I sent Kayley in to investigate and she reported the village was small. It seemed likely we had killed most of them that night. But the traps, so many traps. She worked nearly all day on securing a path we might take in. Most of the traps were around one building. We gained entrance…"

Philippe left off here and shuddered again. Erald spoke up then. Normally a quiet man his voice now had not trouble filling the silence that hung over the campfire. "It was the women and a child, Commander."

Oghren growled then, standing up and walking toward the surrounding trees he leaned against one. Aedan swallowed and looked back toward Philippe. He reached out a hand, tentatively touched the senior warden's shoulder.

Philippe looked up, his eyes clouded with anguish. "I couldn't do it, Aedan. They are still there, tainted, most of them already ghouls. More of the men came up behind us; we battled our way out and moved our camp to here. They have not followed."

Aedan's head began to spin. Women and a child? He had to delay his return to Denerim to slaughter tainted women? His stomach roiled and he put his hands to his cheeks and took a deep breath. He turned his head sideways. Philippe regarded him with an expression that called for reproach. Aedan immediately sought to comfort the man. "Philippe, I cannot fault your hesitation."

Relief flared briefly in the man's eyes only to be replaced by resignation. Aedan felt it too and he cursed his duty, not for the first time.

"When will the wardens be ready to go back? We must finish this."

Philippe glanced around the campfire and then at the sky. "Let us see if we can't get a full night of rest and try for midday tomorrow. Perhaps the sun at our backs will firm our resolve."

Aedan nodded, it was as good a plan as any. Philippe inclined his head toward Darat.

"You'll want to put him through the Joining tonight, Commander, we dare not approach that village otherwise."

Luke was sitting next to Darat and Aedan's eyes rested upon his son. He could not take Luke with them tomorrow. He turned back to Philippe, but his second had already anticipated his question.

"Erald will stay here with Luke, his leg was badly injured by one of those traps. Taren has done his best, but the bones…"

He didn't need to say more. Aedan had broken both his legs and despite the healing he'd received at the time, they had bothered him for weeks afterwards. He'd not even been able to walk properly for two days. He nodded toward Erald and then turned to Oghren.

"Oghren, would you stay here with Erald and Luke. Please?"

He thought for a moment that Oghren might refuse him and they held one another's gaze for a while. Then the dwarf simply nodded and turned away.

The ritual was hastily prepared and Darat survived the tainted cup. Aedan sat first watch, encouraging his wardens to rest. He tried not to let his mind wander, he did not want to think about what lay ahead of him. He thought of his beloved wife. Drawing his knees up, he wrapped his arms about them and rested his chin between them. He thought of Leliana and gathered his strength and resolve from their bond. She would be waiting for him. He would make it back to Denerim and to his love's side. She would hold him and soothe him and the world would be a good and fair place again.

The next morning Aedan took a few moments alone with Luke. The boy sensed his somber mood and did not protest when Aedan drew him into a close embrace. He didn't flinch as Aedan took his face between his hands and pressed his lips to his forehead.

"Luke." Aedan hesitated, not sure what to say. "Son, you must stay here. I…I will be back. If something should happen, if someone comes, run, Luke, promise me you will run. Go to the road."

Luke nodded soberly. His shoulders were squared and his face titled upward in a show of bravery, but he could not hide the fear in his eyes. He said in a low tone, "I will, Aedan. Maker watch over you."

"Maker watch over us all."

The sun crested the trees as they reached the outskirts of the village. It appeared deserted. Kayley slipped into shadow and approached the small hall that stood at its centre. Aedan heard the occasional grating click as she disarmed the traps at the stairs to the building and then she appeared before them once again and offered a short nod.

They walked slowly toward the building weapons drawn and at the ready. The only sound to be heard was the gentle creak of leather, the soft clank of metal and their footfalls. Aedan realized he was holding his breath and he let it out with a sharp sigh. Two other wardens copied him.

The door was barricaded and locked and after they cleared the debris Kayley set to work on the locks. The heavy wood creaked as they swung open and Aedan rocked back. The smell, oh Maker, the smell. He heard a gagging sound beside him but did not dare turn his head. Another warden took a deep, shuddering breath. All the windows were shuttered and the hall was dimly lit by a lone lantern. The floor was littered with bodies, and at first glance Aedan thought had been granted a reprieve. They looked dead. The hall was full of dead, discoloured bodies. Then one moved, rolled over in sleep and Aedan felt the bile rising in the back of his throat. A child whimpered and sat up, rubbing its face, and the lantern caught the silvered glow of those eyes, the tainted eyes.

Aedan wanted to run, he wanted to turn and run. He understood Philippe's predicament. Already they had stood here too long, stunned by the sight before them. He shook his head, trying to throw off his horror and turned toward his wardens. The relief at finding them all there and with no men at their backs was palpable. He turned his head back toward the room and with a choked voice said, "Let us be done with this."

Those nearest the door were ghouls. Aedan swept his blade down and across the first throat and before he lost his resolve he dispatched the second. The child began to cry and the rest of the bodies stirred. Those most tainted were the easiest to kill. They were mindless and ran at them and the wardens raised their weapons in defense first, offense second. But as they worked their way through the room it became harder and harder for Aedan to lift his blade. One woman looked at him with those greyed eyes and cursed him, her blistered hands reaching toward him as he swung his blade at her, trying for a single strike. He missed and had to chop at her again.

Finally only two women and the small child remained. They huddled at the far corner of the room. The women were the least tainted of those they had encountered and one of them had her hands wrapped protectively about the child. They both still had their hair and their skin was blotched rather than thickened and dark. The woman holding the child spoke. "Wait, please, you have to stop him. He's mad."

The wardens had dropped back and stood in a loose semicircle about them.

Aedan faltered, his weapons dropping down a little. "Who, the village leader? Where is he?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. He hasn't been to see us since last night." She dropped her head and her shoulders slumped and when she looked up again, her eyes were closed and her lips moved in prayer. When her eyes opened again she said, "Before he gets back, end this torture, please."

Aedan's heart twisted. She had asked him to kill her and she had pushed the child forward. His blades dropped lower as he howled inside. She had asked him to kill her. This was wrong, so wrong! He did not glance at his wardens, he kept his eyes forward. He sank to his knees and set his sword on the floor and beckoned the child forward. The woman let go of its shoulders and the child cried, its blackened face turning back toward her. The child no longer had hair and was young enough that Aedan could not tell it a girl from a boy.

The woman pushed the child toward him and Aedan felt the small bony shoulders beneath his hands. His vision blurred and his heart screamed at him to stop. He held the body against him and drew the head back and before he could take a breath he slit the child's throat. As the dropped the body, he hunched forward, overcome with grief and despair.

A strangled cry slipped through the ringing in his ears. "No!"

A blow landed on the back of his head dropping him to his hands and knees. A flurry of sounds followed. Two more bodies dropped into view. It was done, the two women were dead.

Philippe helped Aedan to his feet and the two men leaned upon each other a moment. Then Aedan strode from the room without looking back. He leaned against the outer wall and gasped in fresh air. Finally he straightened and said to Taren, "Burn this place. Burn it to the ground."

He stepped from the door with shaky legs and then froze. A high pitched wail drifted from the open doors. He shivered from head to foot, all his hair standing on edge. A Shriek? Hefting his blades he spun and ran back into the building but saw nothing. The wail came again. It sounded like...an infant?

The wardens had followed him in and Kayley immediately ran to a dark corner and began scrabbling at the floor. She lifted a trapdoor and disappeared down the dark hole. When she emerged she was carrying a basket. The wailing came again and Aedan looked inside. It was a baby, a pink cheeked, rounded and healthy looking. It opened its mouth and cried lustily.

Kayley looked up, her eyes full of fear. "We don't have to kill it, do we?"

Aedan's knees trembled and he shook his head from side to side. "Unwrap it, check it's body, it doesn't look tainted." He prayed to the Maker as Kayley inspected the babe. He could not kill a baby, could he?

"Give me the baby."

Aedan spun at the new voice. The leader of the village stood in the doorway. There was no doubting either his authority or the extent of his taint. How was this man sane enough to stand erect, let alone talk? He was holding a slight figure before him, one gnarled hand resting upon a shoulder. The other held a dagger at the throat. The sunlight was behind him and Aedan could not make out who it was until the head lifted and the light of the dim lantern caught a familiar face. The world began to spin away from him and Aedan staggered.

He gestured to Kayley. "Give him the baby."

Philippe said in a low tone, "Commander?"

"I said give him the baby!" Aedan shouted.

Kayley's voice was so quiet. "But…"

"Maker help me, he's holding my son!" Aedan spun and wrenched infant from Kayley's hands. The baby screwed up its face and bawled at him.

Philippe had stepped forward enough to see the shadowed figure being held in front of the tainted man in the doorway and a single word fell from his lips. "Luke."

Aedan moved around the frozen warden and approached the village leader.

"Let my son go." He did not recognise his own voice. He sounded like a wounded animal, his tone a choked snarl.

Suddenly the tainted man jerked forward and blood spurted from his neck. It splashed over the side of Luke's face and the boy howled at the sting of it, closing his eyes and struggling to wrench himself free. The dagger drew a dark line across his throat and the gnarled claws curled into his shoulder, pricking through his leather armour and sticking there. The boy shrieked and pulled, tearing his shoulder free, strips of leather and skin pulling from away.

Aedan threw the baby at Kayley and ran to Luke's side. He stepped over his discarded weapons and grappled with the man, pulling the dagger away from Luke' throat first. He eased the boy away from the crumpling figure and then turning, aimed a kick for the man's belt, casting him backwards through the door. The man landed flat on his back and a further spray of black blood flew upwards as the arrow drove through his neck, quivering as it stopped.

Erald stood behind him, his bow cocked, another arrow notched. He lowered the bow, staggered and dropped to his knees. His armour gaped where it had been torn by weapons and claws and his face was barely recognizable beneath the coating of blood. Marin leapt over the still twitching body of the tainted man and knelt by Erald's side. Taren followed soon after.

The mage dropped down to the ground and began chanting, his voice reaching a fevered pitch before he began to sway. Marin reached out a hand to steady his shoulder and Taren kept on. When he finally looked up, his eyes were dull and his face looked as though he may never smile again.

"I am too late." He fell over Erald and his shoulders shook. They had only been comrades, nothing more, but already the events of this day had been trying enough. Aedan pulled his gauntlets from his hands and knelt beside Luke. Darat had been holding him and relinquished his grasp, standing and stepping aside. The boy had stopped shrieking and had started to moan instead. Aedan smoothed the hair back from his face and his hand came away sticky with blood. Black, tainted blood. The smell, the odor of taint, rose from his fingers and Aedan retched. He began wiping the fluid from his son's face frantically.

Luke shuddered and said, "Aedan, I can feel it crawling under my skin. It hurts."

Aedan glanced down and saw that the small line around his neck where the dagger had scored the skin was puckering and swelling. The blood, the tainted blood had seeped into the wound. His shoulder was a chewed looking mess. Aedan scanned the rest of his body and saw that he had suffered many wounds. Scores of cuts and punctures marked his exposed skin, many of them blackened with a dried crust of blood and the thicker, fouler taint. Aedan shook the boy's shoulders and then pulled him to his chest, wrapping his arms around him and sobbed into his sticky and blackened hair.

"No, Luke, no! Why didn't you run? Oh, Maker no…" Where was Oghren? "Oghren," he gasped.

"I think he's dead. He killed so many of them but they kept coming. Aedan, I'm sorry. Am I going to die?" Tears spilled across Luke's cheeks and his voice was so quiet, his tone so scared, it broke Aedan's heart.

Aedan shook his head, his own tears flying from his cheeks and growled, "No." But inside he felt the lie of his words. The taint had entered Luke's blood. It was only a matter of time before the boy's skin blackened and blistered, before his eyes began to take on that silvered sheen.

"Taren!" Aedan called to the mage and Taren clambered to his feet, looking over to him. He walked slowly over and dropped to his knees in front of Luke. He whispered and channeled healing magic at the wound on the boy's throat, the tear in his shoulder and the myriad of cuts and bruises that decorated his arms and legs.

A hand dropped to Aedan's shoulder and he looked up into Philippe's grave face. He turned back to Taren and asked, "Is it too late? Taren, please tell me it's not too late…"

Taren spoke no words and his eyes did not lift from the floor in front of him. Aedan had his answer.

He clambered to his feet and staggered outside into the sunlight and dropped to his knees beside the body of the tainted man. He lifted his fists and he pounded them on the dead chest again and again, uttering senseless cries of grief and despair. He knew his control, the focus he had worked on so hard over the past year, was slipping. He could feel it ebbing away and he didn't care. He let it go. He welcomed the rage. He would tear this body apart with his bare hands.

Something pulled at his shoulders, gently at first and when he resisted, more roughly. A voice thundered in his ear. "Aedan, stop!"

Philippe knelt beside him. "Aedan," he said more gently. "Stop."

He looked at his second and grappled for his will once more. His chest heaved and his ears buzzed. Philippe's lips were moving again and he couldn't hear the words. He shook his and Philippe spoke again.

"There may be a way. Aedan, can you hear me? There may be something we can do for Luke."

Aedan searched Philippe's eyes. What had he just said? "What, Philippe, how? Tell me…"

"The ritual, Aedan. We make Luke a Grey Warden."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

The grey stone walls of the Landsmeet chamber seemed to swim before his eyes and Alistair blinked. The room had fallen silent. He looked over at the colonel from Fort Drakon and realized the man had spoken and expected a response.

He lifted his eyebrows at the colonel. "I'm sorry, Peter, could your repeat that?"

The colonel offered him a sympathetic smile. "I merely suggested that perhaps we could continue this in the morning, your Majesty. We are all tired."

Tired did not even begin to cover it. Exhausted barely fit. How long had he been sitting here interviewing Ferelden's army? More to the point, what purpose did he have in mind? Nevertheless it had felt good to be doing something.

He nodded at Peter. "Dismiss the men, we'll continue in the morning. When will you implement the new strategies we discussed?"

"Already done, your Majesty." Peter crossed his arms in salute and moved to dismiss the soldiers milling about in the hall.

His anger and fury had propelled him for hours and he'd ruthlessly interviewed soldier after soldier, questioning them intently. Every time a helm had been lifted to reveal an ordinary face he'd stiffened. However, after two years as king, most of these men were known to him. Little information had been gathered. People came and went from the palace and the fort all day, every day. But the activity gave him purpose. Without it he felt he might go mad.

Alistair had not realized how much he had relied on Oghren and Eamon. As he'd held Brenna in his arms he'd been nearly crippled by self doubt. Isolde's accusations echoed in his head. Did he really need Eamon to hold his hand? Could he lead an army without Oghren? He rubbed his temples and pulled himself to his feet. Sleep, he needed sleep.

Eight guards fell into place around him as he left the chamber. Alistair barely registered the fact that he could not see the hallways and corridors around him. He merely relayed his destination and allowed himself to be led along.

His suite of rooms resembled a dormitory. Runir slept on the couch. A more natural colour tinted his cheeks and the swelling of his lips had subsided. The mage reclined in a chair next to him. Two guards sat in the corner engaged in a quiet game of cards. Alistair moved through to his bedroom and found his bed occupied by Brenna, Leliana and Riordan.

A number of thoughts crossed Alistair's mind. He grinned at the first: There are two ladies in my bed! He grimaced at the second: Perhaps we should invite Celene and Isolde to complete the party and then a mage could cast a spell over the _entire_ room and kill us all.

Alistair shook his head at his own disparity of thought. Though it seemed faintly ridiculous for them all to be holed up like this, each had taken comfort from one another's presence. Alistair chose the couch at the end of the bed and sank gratefully into it. He clanked. He got up and removed his armour and then tried again. He slept.

A fine rain marked Celene's departure. The weather kept the crowds indoors and Alistair found himself alone, with the exception of his guard and the ever present Runir, in bidding the empress farewell. As he glanced about the docks he noted the marked difference to her arrival. That day had been sunny and he'd been surrounded by his nearest and dearest. Aedan had been standing just over there with little Riordan in his arms. Leliana had been hugging Luke. He could hear Oghren's gravelly laugh over his shoulder and at a wisp of air he could feel Brenna at his elbow. He glanced to his right, to where Eamon had been standing, and an overwhelming sadness took his breath away.

"Are those tears for me, Alistair? I shall miss you too, you know."

Alistair cursed the armoured gauntlet that would prevent him from wiping his face and then just shrugged and indicated the drizzle that misted about them.

She held out her hands and he took them gently in his own. "May the Maker watch over you, Celene."

She tendered the expected response and then withdrew her hands and turned toward her ship. Before she set foot on the boarding ramp she looked over her shoulder at him.

"I trust you will send word when our little problem has been taken care of?"

He nodded in response. "I will." He offered no more apologies or assurances, they were beyond that. They spoke plainly now.

Celene held his gaze a moment longer and then resumed boarding the ship. Alistair stood alone on the dock until the ship left the harbour, finally moving only when it slipped out of sight beyond the headlands.

Brenna greeted him upon his return to the palace. Two bright spots of colour decorated her pale cheeks and Alistair rejoiced to see her looking so well. He moved to enclose her in his arms and his guard parted and then rejoined around them. With a chaste kiss to her cheek he let her go and simply took her hand as they walked toward his study.

Leliana waited for them. Alistair thanked the Maker for Leliana's foresight in carrying one simple potion about with her. Had either Runir or Brenna consumed more of poison than they had, the simple decoction may have been less effective. They had been very lucky. A simple tray of bread and cheese sat on a small table and Alistair's stomach rumbled. He'd not eaten since the previous evening. He reached for a piece of cheese and then froze in the act of lifting it to his mouth.

"I prepared it myself, Alistair, and both Brenna and I have eaten it." Leliana's voice was quiet and her words were supported by a short nod from his betrothed.

Anger flared briefly within him, banishing the sadness of the morning, and the cheese was tasteless on his tongue, but he chewed and swallowed, his hunger spurring him to reach for another piece.

Leliana began her report. "The kitchen staff is lined up outside. Many of them fear for their livelihoods, Alistair. Perhaps I should begin vetting them this morning as my first task?"

Alistair nodded his assent to the plan. The palace would not run itself. Dismissing all the staff last night had soothed his fit of anger and he had slept better knowing the halls were empty.

Runir spoke up. "I will accompany you to Fort Drakon?"

Swallowing his last piece of cheese, Alistair again nodded. He drew his shoulders back and looked the rogue square in the eye. "Today we execute two men, Runir."

He'd thought those words would catch on his tongue, but they did not. His voice was steady, his tone firm. Brenna paled and he squeezed her hands. "Would you accompany Leliana today?"

Leliana piped up. "Please do, Brenna, four eyes are better than two, and this will be your staff we are interviewing."

The four of them exchanged nods.

"Then we have a plan!" Alistair took a moment to catch the eye of each of his companions before adding, "Tomorrow we resume wedding plans." He reached for Brenna's hand once more. "I…we will not be cowed by this."

Saying the words lifted his spirits and firmed his resolve. A more confident man left the study to make his way to the fort.

Alistair watched the execution. Though he drew no comfort from the death of two men, the act served to ease his mind. Two less assassins roamed the city, three if he counted Juilden.

He spent the early afternoon finishing the task he'd started the night before. Though the interviews seemed to serve little purpose, Alistair enjoyed connecting with the men. Many of the faces were familiar only a few names escaped him. Almost to a man the soldiers offered their condolences and assured him of their loyalty. Their open and honest faces heartened him and Alistair finished the task feeling he had done something worthwhile.

He beckoned the colonel. "Peter, I would like to spar with the men. I think we could all use some exercise."

The man raised his eyebrows but held his tongue and with a terse nod left to do his bidding.

"Is that wise?" Runir rose from his seat beside the door and approached.

"If any of these men intended to kill me, they've had ample opportunity over the past two years, Runir."

Alistair stood and stretched his legs and arms. "Besides, I've been sitting here all afternoon, I need to move!"

The rain and cleared and the dampness of the ground kept the dust low on the practice field. His footing slipped now and again and by the end of his third round Alistair was caked in mud. He loved it. The focus of using his sword and shield cleared his mind and the smell of sweat, steel and mud refreshed him.

He looked up and beckoned Runir. "Feel up to a match?"

The rogue gave him a lopsided grin and reached to his back for his twin blades. He stepped across from him and adopted an easy stance that reminded him of Aedan. They crossed swords and Alistair revised his comparison. Runir had Aedan's posture, but Zevran's speed. He stepped back and they circled one another a moment before meeting again.

Runir won the match on points but they both conceded each other was a worthy opponent.

"Not that I expected less, your Majesty." Runir's eyes twinkled, but his tone held a good measure of respect.

"Thank you, Runir. I hope we have the opportunity to test one another's mettle again."

As he now wore his armour everywhere, Alistair did not stop to change before leaving the fort. He merely sheathed his sword and called for his guard.

They were halfway between the fort and the palace with the mage struck. The first three of his guards, those in front of and to one side were suddenly thrown to the ground. A glyph of repulsion. Alistair immediately cleansed the area and reached for his sword and shield. One of the guards next to him stiffened in horror and a second was enclosed by the glow of a paralysis spell. The remaining three guards and Runir closed about him in a loose circle and all five of them looked about themselves warily.

This quarter of the city contained no merchants and the street was deserted. A flash of movement caught Alistair's eye and he looked up. There, scurrying along the roofline was a man in the typical leather armour of a rogue. So the final two assassins had decided to team up on him? Assuming there had been and still were only five…

Not a thought Alistair wanted to entertain right now. He pointed out the rogue to Runir and the warden immediately set to scaling the wall of the closest building, moving with uncanny agility and grace up an almost vertical surface until he reached the roofline. He ran across the slate roof and disappeared behind a chimney. The mage struck again.

This time a fireball landed in their midst. The first three guards had just regained their feet and were thrown down again with the rest of them. The only man to remain on his feet was still frozen by paralysis. Alistair rolled to douse the flames licking along his armour and cursed the flash of heat that seeped through the joints. He regained his feet and seven men closed in around him once more, their backs to him, their swords all pointed outward.

He heard a scuffle and looked behind him just in time to see a leather clad man roll down a roof, tip over the edge and land with a muffled thud at his feet. It was the rogue. He looked up again and Runir crept over the roof, dropping from the gutter to land lightly on his feet. He nudged the body with is foot, turning it over and Alistair saw the rogue's throat had been cut.

He felt the ball of lightning before it struck, that charge in the air, and he yelled for the men to disperse. Too late he realized his mistake. They were not fighting darkspawn, they were fighting men, intelligent men. As soon as he was exposed Alistair was caught in a spell of paralysis. Men emerged from the shadows, all of them with blades in hand, two for each of his guards and two more besides.

Alistair could not even turn his head to watch as the battle was joined about him. The muted ring of sword against sword reached his ears and cold rage stirred in his gut, tempered by resolution. At last he had the chance to defend himself. A frontal assault was something he could deal with. This time he had an enemy he could see. He mentally counted off the seconds until the spell vanished about him and then he cast smite. The men of Ferelden's army were trained for this. They were led by a templar and had been drilled to resist his talents. All but one of them kept their feet, the poor unfortunate joining many of their attackers on the ground.

Alistair stepped into the fray. He approached the first available target and swung his sword, spinning and catching the man with his shield next. Runir slipped behind to flank and they quickly cut the rogue down before turning to find another target.

He found himself face to face with burly rogue who defied convention by carrying two swords rather than one. The twin blades swished in front of him, the unexpected length of the off-hand weapon catching him unaware. The sword tip gouged across his breast plate but instead of stepping back as expected, Alistair leaned into the move. He twisted his torso, turning the blade aside and swept his own sword out in an arc, catching the rogue at the junction of his neck and shoulder. His bold move paid off and the man was surprised. The resultant spray of blood as his head nearly left his shoulders spattered across Alistair's bare face and he shook it from his eyes, turning to find his next target.

He heaved in a breath and fed his anger slowly into his sword as he raised his shield to stun his next opponent, following the move with a well aimed strike. Runir finished off the man and moved apace with Alistair as they turned to survey the street. Two of Ferelden's soldier's were down and only four of the rogue army remained standing, all engaged in combat.

The mage had obviously been restoring his mana for he chose that moment to strike again, throwing another fireball into their midst. Alistair resisted it and almost chuckled aloud at the mage's disregard for friendly fire. He'd thought only darkspawn guilty of that crime. But he'd caught the direction of the spell this time and pointed it out to Runir. The rogue slipped away and Alistair turned to help his men to their feet.

A large group of soldiers led by the colonel jogged into view and the remaining four rogues laid down their weapons. The fight was won.

Alistair returned with his men to Fort Drakon. He held little hope of gaining information from the four men they had captured and was surprised by their willingness to talk. These men were not Brethren and in fact, none of them had even heard of the organization. They were mercenaries hired for this one specific task.

Runir escorted the mage into the fort soon afterwards and to the surprise of all, the man appeared willing to cooperate.

Alistair couldn't help the shiver that traveled down his spine as familiar words greeted his ears. "Why not, I was not paid for silence."

Runir answered this flippant remark. "You are not of the Brethren then?"

The mage titled his head and considered Runir a moment before replying to his question. "Indeed I am, my young friend, but I hold rank over the other miscreants sent to attend this task. My methods are my own and I did not expect to fail."

The mage's eyes slid to Alistair and he continued. "Rumours of your inability to rule and hold sway over your men are greatly exaggerated, it seems. Ferelden is not the country backwater I had expected."

He shivered and added, "Though I can't say as the weather agrees with me."

The mage's jovial manner irritated Alistair. He checked his temper, however, and continued with his questions. "Can you confirm the number of assassins sent to Ferelden?"

"Yes."

Alistair quirked a brow at the man and the mage quickly amended his response. "Yes, I can confirm the number and yes, there were five." He paused and then added, "Of which I am one. How many others have you so expertly dealt with?"

The colonel opened his mouth, but Alistair gestured him to silence. He faced the mage again and asked his next question. "What is your purpose in Ferelden?"

"Well, I would have thought that one was obvious, _your Majesty_."

The derision in the mage's voice failed to move Alistair. He simply moved on as though he had not noticed and asked his final question. "Who sent you?"

"You seem like an intelligent man. I think you know the answer to that question also."

Alistair felt his temper begin to slip and it must have shown on his face. The mage hastily added, "Anora MacTir."

Alistair nodded and turned away. He beckoned a guard and said, "We're done here."

The mage piped up behind him. "We are? I think not, your Majesty. We've not even begun to explore the ways in which I might be of service to you."

Alistair turned around and fought to keep his lips together, despite the will of his mouth to gape at the audacity of this man. He remembered his anger when Aedan, against all reason, had recruited Zevran to their cause. It had taken him months to trust the former assassin and even now he half regretted his decision to send him to Tevinter in the company of his brother.

He studied the mage who returned his regard with cocky assurance. Could he ever extend that bond of trust? He didn't think so. But a mage like this might hold knowledge that could be exploited, he could be an important asset to Ferelden. Zevran had definitely proved his worth over the years.

This was not a decision he could come to rationally, however. An image rose in his mind. He saw Brenna's face as he'd held her limp body in his arms and had been unable to kiss her poisoned lips. His breath caught and he made his decision.

"Execute him."

He did not stay to watch.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Aedan stood in the middle of the village trying to catch his breath, clenching and unclenching his fists as he fought to regain control. He could not focus on any single thought. He closed his eyes in an attempt block out the scene before him only to find his mind assaulted with worse. He had failed his family! He couldn't stop the thought circling around and around. He had failed Luke and Leliana. Every time he opened his eyes in an attempt to deny this, a warden stood before him with another question and he stared at them blankly until they moved off.

Philippe approached. Where would he be without Philippe? Aedan stared at that stalwart face and wondered, not for the first time, why he held the title Warden Commander of Ferelden and not Philippe. He'd offered the Orlesian Warden the position twice; once after Philippe had returned from escorting a traitor to the order back to Orlais and once again after too much ale. Both times his second had refused. So Aedan had named him Senior Warden instead. Philippe's mouth moved and Aedan realized he was speaking.

"Commander?" Philippe's worried face creased further as he reached out to shake Aedan's shoulder.

"Philippe." His voice sounded hoarse. He cleared this throat and tried again. "What is it?"

"Your orders?"

Aedan took a deep breath and reached for his will. He tried to push his fury and grief aside. He could do this, he had to do this. He was the Commander.

"Burn it, Philippe. Burn the whole village." His fury won out at this, but he did not take the words back.

Philippe's brows rose but he nodded, turned and began giving orders. He turned to Aedan once more and asked, "The babe?"

Aedan then noticed that Philippe held the basket and the infant inside cried feebly. He knew that cry, he'd heard it many times before. "It's hungry," he said.

Philippe nodded. "I'll have one of the wardens search the village for something to feed it."

"Her. It's a girl." Aedan could not shake the image of the naked babe from his mind now. He knew if he closed his eyes it would still be there. He had held that babe, naked and squalling, before him and offered it to a horribly tainted man. Bile rose up the back of this throat as he thought of what he'd been willing to do - to exchange an innocent life for that of his son. Luke himself was a foundling, a child he'd rescued from the darkspawn.

Philippe's mouth was moving again.

"Commander, can you hear me?" Philippe shook his shoulder and pointed downward at the basket and then over at the fence that surrounded the village.

Aedan looked over his shoulder. Luke reclined against a fence post and Taren sat beside the boy.

"Go be with your boy. I'll finish up here."

Aedan stooped to pick up the basket and with wooden legs turned and staggered toward the fence. He sank down beside Luke. The boy's eyes were closed and his breath came in short, pained gasps. He fought the taint. Taren trickled small amounts of healing magic into him now and again, helping him, keeping the taint at bay; a temporary solution at best. Putting the basket aside, Aedan slipped his arm about Luke's shoulders and pulled him against his side. He couldn't bear to see his son in so much pain and tears pricked his eyes again.

So many conflicting emotions charged through his heart he thought it might stop altogether. How could he even consider making Luke a Grey Warden, he had yet to even turn sixteen! But the alternative was death, or worse. The guilt, holy Maker, the guilt. Why had he not sent Luke back to Denerim with Runir? Aedan wanted to throw back his head and howl at this. And then, the one thought he'd desperately been trying to hold at bay slipped in: What would he say to Leliana?

The smell of the village as it burned turned more than one stomach inside out. The odor of rot and taint rose on the billowing clouds of smoke and circled the buildings, obscuring them from view. One by one the wardens gathered by the fence, faces pale and eyes clouded with horror. Many wiped their mouths and pinched their noses. Philippe had Erald's body over his shoulder and he set the dead warden down reverently.

Kayley approached cautiously. She held a small sack in one hand. "For the baby," she whispered quietly.

Aedan didn't try to smile. Experience had taught him that his face did not work well under such circumstances. Instead, he gathered his wits once more and thanked the elven rogue. She rummaged around in the sack and produced a small flask and shrugged lightly. "I don't know what to feed a baby, Commander."

Kayley blushed and Aedan tried for a consoling expression. "It's alright Kayley, water will quiet her cries until we get back to camp. See if you can find her something to suck on."

Together they tended the babe. He showed Kayley how to change her and the elf looked impressed. He muttered, "Leliana insisted I learn," which earned an appreciative nod from Philippe. The few moments of tending an otherwise helpless being served to calm him, or at least distract his mind. Once they resettled her in the basket Aedan pushed himself to his feet and reached down a hand to Luke. The boy grimaced and stood somewhat unsteadily.

Aedan looked to Philippe and in as decisive tone as he could muster said, "Let's leave before the stench chokes us. Will you bring Erald? I would not leave him here."

Philippe's expression lifted at his more steady tone and apparent return to sense and he nodded. "As you wish, Commander."

Taren settled an arm about Luke's shoulders. "I will walk with him, Commander. I can continue to slow the taint as we move."

Aedan nodded and looked down to see Kayley reaching for the basket. He gently stopped her. He did not know what impulse made him reach for the handle himself, perhaps guilt? Perhaps the pink cheeked infant offered a glimmer of hope in a situation that had spiraled beyond his control. Either way, he found himself carrying the basket. Kayley collected the sack.

Darat, Marin and Philippe took turns shouldering the burden of Erald until they'd walked an hour from the village. Aedan stopped and led them from the winding path to a clearing by a small river. There they collected wood to make a pyre and paid the proper respect to their departed brother.

Afterwards they continued toward the camp and another unanswered question. What had become of Oghren? Aedan's heart twisted again. Felsi, what would he tell Felsi? The path beckoned and Aedan did what he always did when he wanted to clear the anguish from his heart and the fury from his mind. He walked faster. The rocking soothed the babe and she fell asleep as the basket swung from his hand.

The smell of the taint assaulted him and he stumbled across the bloated body of a ghoul lying across the path. A glint, something flaring briefly in the setting sun, caught Aedan's eye and he stooped down. Luke's sword lay beside the body. Blood and black ichor coated the blade. By Andraste, Luke had fought the ghoul. He had killed it. Aedan picked up the sword and his hand shook as he held the blade.

The rest of the wardens caught up to him. Aedan wiped the blade against what clothing remained on the dead body and slipped it back into the sheath at Luke's back. He rested a hand on the boy's shoulder a moment. "I'll help you clean it properly at camp."

Luke nodded through gritted teeth. Aedan looked at the wound across his throat. Taren had healed it, but a mark remained because of the taint. Likely Luke would carry a thin black scar across his throat for the rest of his life, if he survived the joining. Then only for another thirty years. Aedan swallowed and looked away again, beckoning the wardens forward.

The odor of untended dead bodies hung thickly in the air and when he reached the clearing Aedan stopped and simply stared. The cause of both Luke and Erald's horribly injured state became perfectly clear. The camp was littered with ghouls. Aedan counted eight bodies. He did not see Oghren. Putting the basket down, he turned to his companions.

"Kayley, Marin, circle that way. Philippe and I will take the other side. Taren, watch Luke and the babe please. Darat, would you stand guard?"

The new warden nodded and stepped back to the path, weapons drawn, and assumed a watchful pose.

Aedan collected his second and they set off into the trees in search of Oghren. They had not walked more than ten minutes before they heard Marin's call.

Aedan and Philippe jogged toward the sound and came upon Kayley and Marin crouched over Oghren's prone form. The dwarf was fully armoured, the plate scored and scratched in dozens of places. Blood and gore had collected in joints and on straps. His helm was dented on one side. Aedan glanced about for Oghren's axe and saw it a few feet away, the blade almost completely buried within a dead ghoul. Marin carefully removed the dented helm.

Aedan gasped at what it revealed. Oghren's normally red hair, now darkened with blood, clung to his pale face. His closed eyelids did not twitch. Marin felt for a pulse and when he looked up his eyes were wide. "He lives!"

Aedan and Philippe gingerly lifted the dwarf between them and carried him back to camp. Taren hurried over and set to healing Oghren's wounds, of which there appeared to be only one, his head.

"He will have a sore head when he wakes, Commander. He is lucky to be alive! But I think he will make a full recovery."

Aedan's shoulders sagged with relief, but the feeling was short lived. He glanced over at Luke. They needed to prepare the ritual. A cold stone settled into the pit of his stomach. When he spoke his voice sounded low and gruff.

"Let's clear away these bodies. Taren, would you help me prepare…" his voice stopped abruptly as his breath caught in his throat.

Taren nodded. The mage knew what he'd tried to ask and he moved away to find his pack. Aedan undid his armour and started removing it piece by piece. He tired of the weight and the heat and the smell of it. The smell of the taint and of death. He tossed it aside and sat down next to Luke. The boy's shoulders shook and his eyes were full of fear. Aedan put an arm around Luke's shoulders and pulled his son close to his side. Luke rested his head against Aedan's chest and they sat still, neither of them speaking. Finally Aedan cleared his throat.

"What do you know about the Joining, Luke?"

"I have to drink something, right? And I might not survive."

Luke had been present at Amaranthine for a Joining. Though the wardens kept the ritual secret and performed it in a private location, they could not hide the fact that not all the recruits walked back with them.

"Darkspawn blood, Lyrium, Taren is preparing it now." Aedan shivered as he remembered the taste, the burn, the fear of death. "You will become immune to the taint and be able to sense the darkspawn. You will be forever changed."

Luke groaned quietly.

"Luke, I wish there was another way. You are so young. Son, I'm sorry." Aedan's voice broke and he bit his lip. He wanted to be strong for Luke, not a blubbering idiot. He drew in a shaky breath and sought his strength. His love for Leliana often provided the solace and fortitude he needed, but that would not work today. He thought of Philippe instead, his Brother and faithful second. Philippe kept him on his feet, and his mind to the task. Whenever he lacked the strength, Philippe was there. He glanced across the camp at the older warden and felt his nerve steady. Nevertheless, when he spoke again, his words were rushed.

"Normally it would be your choice, Luke, you'd be invited. I hate having to do this to you. You must be strong. Fight the taint as you do now. I'll be right there with you the whole time."

If Luke survived the Joining there would be more to tell.

"Luke, I'm sorry." If he said it a thousand times it would not be enough.

Luke shifted his head to look up at him and continued. "Don't be sorry, it's not your fault. If I'd not followed you from Denerim…"

"Sh. I should have sent you back."

"I'm glad you didn't. Orzammar was amazing. If I don't…" Luke choked on a sob then and Aedan looked down at him, concerned.

"Luke?"

"If I don't make it, I just wanted to say thank you, Aedan."

Aedan hugged him close. "Don't say that." Aedan closed his eyes, the thought so unbearable his mind balked at it. "I enjoyed having you with me, son. I wish I had taken you somewhere sooner."

Luke was shaking his head. "No, I wanted to thank you for being a father to me."

Aedan felt the wetness on his cheeks but didn't reach to wipe the tears from his eyes. What kind of father did this to his son? His throat closed and his chest constricted. He bit his lips together. Finally he managed to whisper, "Always, Luke. Always."

Taren approached. "Commander, I am ready."

Aedan glanced up and noted that the sun had set. The wardens had completed the tasks set them. He'd not even noticed the smell as they burned the bodies. A campfire fire now crackled merrily away, tended by Marin as he prepared dinner. Oghren still slumped against his bedroll. Philippe fed the babe as Kayley looked on. The world had moved on around them, unheard and unnoticed.

Aedan and Luke stood up and moved toward the campfire. With Oghren unconscious they had no need for secrecy. As they stepped within the circle of light, all the wardens stood. He nodded to them one by one and then turned and took the cup from Taren.

Aedan turned to Luke and drew in deep breath. The dried tears felt stiff upon his cheeks. He cleared his mind and composed his face. "We speak only a few words prior to the Joining, but these words have been said since the beginning."

Philippe spoke the words, his voice soft and quiet, yet easily heard in the still of early evening.

Aedan handed Luke the cup.

He held Luke's gaze as he took a sip and grabbed the cup as it fell from his hands. Handing it to Philippe he caught the boy in his arms as Luke slumped to the ground. Aedan's heart pounded and his ears rang as he watched Luke's eyes roll back and heard the familiar gasping choke whistle from his lips.

Aedan dropped to his knees with Luke in his arms and held his son as he bucked and convulsed. He whispered, "Fight it Luke, be strong," over and over. He cried. He prayed.

Luke struggled for a long time. The only warden who had fought longer had been Taren.

Finally Luke fell limp in his arms. Aedan forgot to breathe. His heart hammered and the buzzing in his ears deafened him. He bent his head over the boy's face and felt the faint wisp of breath from his lips. With a wordless cry he gathered Luke up and cradled him against his chest and kissed the pale and sweaty forehead. He thanked the Maker and hugged Luke until his eyes finally opened.

Aedan found his voice and whispered, "Luke."

Luke grunted and coughed. "I dreamed, Aedan, terrible things."

Aedan nodded softly. "I did too. Tell me what you saw."

With shaky limbs he helped Luke to his feet and led him away from the campfire. He had this conversation with every new Grey Warden. He told him about the dreams, he told him about the appetite. He told him he likely would not have children of his own. He told him he would only live for another thirty years. He told him what he knew of the Calling.

Luke listened to it all in somber silence, his eyes grave.

"Does Leliana know all this stuff? I mean, about the thirty years…and, wait, you were already a Warden when…"

Aedan looked up and said, "Riordan is a gift from the Maker." He smiled gently at Luke before adding, "All children are."

He glanced over at the wardens gathered about the fire before continuing. "These are the secrets of the Grey Wardens, Luke. You may not share this with anyone other than your brothers and sisters. Do you understand?"

Luke nodded. He opened his mouth to speak, the question in his eyes, but Aedan held up a hand to forestall him.

"Yes. Leli knows it all. I cannot keep secrets from my wife."

He looked at Luke anew. The boy would be only sixteen next week, and yet, he now had to speak to him as a man. "Grey Wardens shouldn't marry, Luke." A pain squeezed his heart and he swallowed over the lump in his throat before he could go on. "Having to keep secrets is the least of it. But I could not have done differently." He dropped his gaze. He loved Leliana so desperately it was a physical sensation. He felt her everywhere.

Luke's face creased into a worried frown. "What are we going to tell her? She's going to be so mad." He looked suitably cowed for a moment before he continued. "But the way she talks about you when you're away, the stories she tells. She makes you sound like one of the heroes of old. She loves you very much, you know that right?" He blushed and looked down at his hands.

Aedan's heart filled. "I do."

"She'll forgive us, Aedan."

"Let's hope you're right."

They returned to the fire and the wardens welcomed Luke as a Brother. They were so tender toward him that Aedan felt tears threatening again and he simply watched without speaking, not trusting his voice.

Oghren woke just as Marin started serving dinner. He blinked about at all the companions and started complaining about his head, his gut and the lack of ale.

Luke ate only a little before dropping into an uneasy sleep.

Aedan found he had little appetite either. He offered to take first watch and Philippe joined him for a while.

"I don't suppose you've reconsidered my offer?" Aedan asked after they'd sat side by side starting at the fire in silence for perhaps an hour.

Philippe turned toward him and raised a brow. "No." He clapped Aedan on the shoulder. "You are Warden Commander, and not just because you hold the title. You are the Hero…"

Aedan cut him off. "Ugh, why don't you get some sleep, Philippe."

"Today would have broken anyone, Aedan, you did well." Philippe's tone was quiet, but his eyes reflected his soft smile. He rose and made for his bedroll.

Aedan gazed around the fire at his sleeping companions and felt a sharp pang of loneliness. Though he enjoyed their camaraderie, he always felt a little separate from his wardens. Not only was he their commander, but he didn't live like a warden. He held a noble title and lands. He had a wife and a family. He thought over Luke's words and his heart ached for Leliana. The thought of the pain he would cause her when they returned to Denerim left him breathless. He found himself wishing, not for the first time, that he were not a Grey Warden and briefly entertained the fantasy of just walking away.

A small thin sound distracted him and he glanced toward the basket. The babe had woken up. He slipped his hands beneath the small bundle and pulled the infant out and cradled her gently in his arms.

"I wonder what your name is, little one," he whispered quietly.

She looked up at him with wide blue-grey eyes. She felt so familiar in his arms. Though the babe resembled Riordan in no way with her grey eyes and blonde fluff of hair, she felt the same, she smelled the same. He fed her and changed her, barely noticing that the entire time he talked quietly to her. Those wide eyes never left his face. Then he hummed Leliana's lullaby to her. He fell asleep with her curled against his chest.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Leliana dispatched the final assassin. Alistair's mouth gaped open mid sentence as the bard leapt lightly onto his desk. Her feet pushed against the back edge and she landed on the window sill, opened the pane, and disappeared from view.

Runir suddenly appeared at the window as though he'd not been sitting on the couch only seconds before. Alistair finally gained his feet and peered over the warden's shoulder.

"What is it, what do you see?"

He heard a cry and a muffled thump and Leliana's face appeared at the window again. "Perhaps if you gentlemen were to move, I might climb back inside?"

She clung to the wall outside with her fingertips and toes, the leather of her boots supple enough for such use. A bloodied dagger dangled from one hand. Runir pulled her over the sill and she landed soundlessly on her feet.

"That's five. Let's hope we're done with them." She drew out a handkerchief and began cleaning her dagger. Runir opened the door to inform the guards.

Alistair continued to gape a moment before asking the first question that came to mind. "Where did that dagger come from?"

"A woman hides many secrets within her skirts, Alistair."

Runir laughed and though faintly shocked, Alistair couldn't help his smile. He shook his head. "Wow."

Runir's rumbling laugh increased in volume and Leliana's musical giggle soon followed. When had routine assassin elimination become a cause for hilarity? Alistair gave into mirth and joined them in laughter.

Brenna appeared in the doorway, Riordan set upon her hip and the three sobered instantly. Leliana slipped the clean dagger into an invisible pocket of her skirt and stepped forward to take her son into her arms, kissing his round cheek.

"I heard a noise, Alistair, and guards are running down the hall. Is everything alright?"

Alistair fought it, he bit his lips together, but he lost the battle. He laughed. He heard Leliana giggling and Runir snickering and he cleared his throat in a business like fashion before answering.

"I believe we have just dealt with the last assassin."

Brenna's eyebrows arched and she looked incredulously from one to the other as they chuckled and chortled. Colour rose in her cheeks and her voice quavered. "I don't understand why you think it's so funny."

Alistair swallowed the last of his laughter and stepped forward to hug Brenna. "I'm sorry, my love, this has been such a trying time. What harm to lighten the mood?"

Brenna's face played host to a myriad of expressions: confusion, apprehension and relief before she relaxed into a smile.

"So does that mean we can all go back to our own rooms now?"

Alistair couldn't help it. He laughed again. At her reproachful look he bit back the quip on the tip of his tongue and kissed her cheek instead. "I hope so."

Runir's quiet voice drifted over, "And I was so enjoying our slumber parties."

Alistair sighed as the two rogues chuckled and slapped their thighs. But he appreciated the lifting of spirits. Whether it was due to lack of proper sleep or the relief of counting down five assassins, it felt good to laugh again.

He stepped back from Brenna and said, "You are just in time, we were laying out the course of the parade."

Only two days remained before his wedding. The day after tomorrow they would tour the city as Denerim turned out to show their favour to the royal couple and the following day he would be wed! Alistair's pulse quickened with excitement. This wedding had come to represent more than his union with Brenna. Ferelden would gain a queen and perhaps one day an heir to throne. More importantly, however, he hoped that day would signal the end of these weeks of strife.

"But the assassin, the guards…" Brenna spluttered.

Alistair's expression darkened for only a second. "…will not interrupt my day." He waved a hand toward the door. "It is done and done. Let's move on to more pleasant things."

Leliana set Riordan down and the toddler made his way between their legs, his small hands pulling skirts and pant legs as he negotiated a course around the desk. The tug of his hands had become so familiar that Alistair barely noticed as the four of them went over the plans.

As Alistair studied the city map heaviness settled upon his shoulders. The laughter had done much to relieve his tension, but he recognised it for what it was: a reaction, pure and simple. Living under the threat of violence and keeping close quarters with his companions had worn on him such that he felt he barely knew himself any more. He'd not had a moment alone in days, let alone any time with Brenna. Someone always watched them, whether friend or foe. He hoped to hear from Zevran soon. Before the wedding would be a timely gift.

A light knock sounded at the door and Leliana answered it. The wardens had arrived! The four of them exchanged looks, all of their faces bright for different reasons. Leliana gathered up her son and they fell within Alistair's circle of guards for the short walk to the Landsmeet chamber.

A dozen men milled about in the hall and a quick glance confirmed Aedan and Oghren were not among them. Aedan was a tall man and his distinctive armour usually marked him out in a crowd, as did Oghren's shorter stature. These wardens had come from Amaranthine.

Their captain stepped forward, crossing his arms in formal salute before taking Alistair's extended arm with a smile. "Alistair, it is good to see you alive and well."

Alistair grinned in return. Wyman was one of the wardens who had no trouble calling him by name, as a brother. "Despite dodging assassins for weeks, yes, I am. Good to see you too, Wyman."

They exchanged news for a few moments before Alistair noticed Wyman had been glancing anxiously about the hall. Alistair turned and observed the crowd. Brenna had her head titled to one side as she listened to a warden talk, the expression on her face indicating she listened to a story. Runir had his arm about the shoulder of one his brothers and the two men were laughing heartily. Leliana stood within a circle of wardens with Riordan at her hip. The men's faces all held gentle expressions as they took turns tickling the boy's cheek or ruffling his hair. Though Leliana's face wore a smile, her eyes held a touch of sadness.

He turned back to Wyman as the warden aired his concern. "The Commander has yet to return from Orzammar?"

Alistair shook his head solemnly. "We expected him yesterday. The north and west patrols have not arrived yet either."

Wyman's expression clouded and he gave a short nod. "I will let my men rest for the afternoon and dispatch a few down each road before evening."

"I will ask Peter to attach a number of soldiers to each group."

The two men nodded decisively at one another. They had a plan.

Alistair turned at a light touch to his elbow. A messenger stood nervously behind him, a slip of paper clutched tightly in his hand.

He read the message and broke into a wide grin.

"Good news, I take it."

Alistair glanced up at Wyman. "Let's just say Oghren had better hurry himself. Felsi, ah, she's having her baby." He couldn't help the flush that took his cheeks as he spoke the words.

Wyman clapped him on the shoulder and with no such embarrassment turned to address the chamber. "Oghren is about to miss a most important event!"

Brenna and Leliana both looked up at the news and quickly made their way to Alistair's side. Wyman started issuing instructions to his men. They would be quartered at the fort and in short order they had collected their gear and prepared to move off.

Alistair looked down at Brenna. She bounced lightly on her toes and clapped her hands to her cheeks. Her face lifted into a radiant smile and she said, "Oh, we must go to her!"

Alistair recalled the hours and hours he'd spent distracting Aedan the day Riordan had been born. Perhaps Oghren's absence was a blessing. He took Brenna's hands and kissed them.

"Go. Take Leliana with you." His expression became more serious as he added, "Wait for the guards before you leave, my love. I will be along shortly."

Brenna also travelled with an eight man guard. He took no chances with the life of the future queen of Ferelden.

She danced from the hall and he smiled after her. Runir appeared silently at his side.

"Oghren and Aedan are overdue, your Majesty."

"Only by a day, Runir. Let us hope it is due to an over indulgence in Dwarven ale and not something more sinister."

"I'm thinking Leliana would find that sinister enough."

Alistair smiled at the rogue and nodded. "Wyman plans to send scouts out along each highway before evening. I will have Peter send along a few men to accompany them."

Afterwards Alistair had plenty of time to wonder why it took so long for babies to be born. The sun dipped behind the fort, visible from Oghren's modest house, and they had eaten their way through Felsi's pantry.

Messengers came and went. The assassin's body had been removed to Fort Drakon – another plain man. Alistair took this particular tidbit of information with a sigh of relief. Five men caught, four of them dead, one beyond his reach. Maker preserve us, let that be them all of them.

Another message from the palace informed him that more wardens had arrived. In his absence they had been directed to Fort Drakon. Alistair grinned from ear to ear. Perhaps Oghren would not miss the birth of his child after all!

He sent a girl deeper into the house to share the news with Brenna and Leliana. Rather than send a return message, Alistair summoned his guards, most of who did not fit within the confines of the house, and stepped outside. He would go to the fort himself and get a breath of fresh air.

"Alistair!"

He turned to find Leliana running toward him. "Will you tell Aedan to come here with Oghren, I mean, I'm sure he would, but…"

He smiled at her. "I will Leliana, or do you want to come with me?"

She looked so torn, but after another glance within the house she shook her head. "No, I should stay here, with Felsi. She has no one else."

Alistair nodded and left. Only two short streets separated him from the fort and he strode confidently within the enclosure of his guard. Runir bobbed along at his side, his expression as light and eager as Leliana's had been. The wardens were his family too.

Though five assassins had been accounted for, it would not pay to lower their vigilance now. Alistair glanced up and around as they walked, as did Runir. They made it to the fort safely.

Aedan had commissioned new armour for all of Ferelden's Grey Wardens. The warriors wore plate similar to his Warden Commander Armour, only the heraldry and pauldrons differed. Aedan's breastplate bore two griffons, back to back, while the warden armour had only one.

Alistair could tell from the armour alone that neither Aedan nor Oghren were among this group. These wardens had been patrolling the west highway. His shoulders slumped slightly and a curl of anxiety tightened in his gut. Where were Aedan and Oghren? The coincidence that the northern patrol was also overdue did not escape him. Schooling his features to a warm expression, he strode forward to greet the west patrol.

"Eric!" They grasped one another's arms and Alistair turned to greet the remainder of the patrol by name. "It is good to see you all."

They all crossed their arms in salute and murmured, "Your Majesty," before he stepped forward to more personally greet them one by one, grasping and arm here and a shoulder there. He reminded them to call him by name, as a brother. This concept often seemed beyond the grasp of the newer wardens, but Eric, Rolf and Yrisa had been among the first Aedan had recruited.

"Are you well, Alistair?" Eric's face wore an easy grin and though his armour bore the stains of travel, he looked well himself.

Alistair paused a moment before answering. He decided that the events of the previous few weeks could not be summed up in a simple answer. Therefore he nodded and replied, "I am."

"What of the Commander, and the north patrol? Have you word?"

Alistair frowned. "Not as yet. Aedan was expected yesterday, the patrol perhaps sooner."

They exchanged worried glances before each sought to reassure the other. They shared an easier smile as Alistair informed him the wardens from Amaranthine had already arrived. Wyman joined them shortly afterwards and the two wardens swapped news of the road. Alistair listened in, relieved to be somewhere other than Oghren's house for a while.

The sun had set fully when another messenger arrived. Alistair opened the note hoping to find news of Aedan or at least Philippe's arrival. The message informed him of a completely different advent. Felsi's baby had been born!

Alistair shared the news with a grin and prepared to return to Oghren's house. He made it no further than the main doors to the fort, however, before a contingent of guards separated to reveal Brenna, Leliana and Riordan.

Mother and babe were well and resting. Oghren had a son! The fort became the venue for an impromptu celebration. Ale was called for and the kitchens were set to work. Fort Drakon was the most secure building in Denerim and for the first time in weeks Alistair felt himself to begin to truly relax. The ale warmed his belly, temporarily quelling his apprehension over Aedan, Oghren and Philippe.

Leliana was bouncing Riordan on her knee. "Another boy to play with, Rory! You two will be as brothers."

Alistair grinned at the thought of the two children tumbling about the fort, following the soldiers about the stone halls. He had started to picture the two boys as men, men as important as their fathers, when he felt a light touch on his arm. Brenna sat beside him, her face wistful. He dropped an arm about her shoulders and pulled her to his side.

"We will have to have a daughter, my love, just to even the score."

She smiled at that and he kissed the tip of her nose. Out of necessity it had become easier to express his affection for her in public. They'd not been alone, truly alone, in over a week. He decided that even if he had to endure the company of Aedan's mabari, Jack, he would be alone with her in his bedroom tonight. Runir could station himself in the sitting room for a change. His mind started to roam in the pleasant direction of just what he had planned for the night when a loud murmur rippled throughout the large dining room.

Alistair glanced up to see a new cluster of armoured wardens at the door. At long last, they had arrived. The relief of everyone in the room hung in the air, palpable, and Alistair felt a final knot of tension begin to ease from his shoulders – until he saw their faces.

Aedan stood at the front of the group which included both Oghren and the northern patrol. An aura of defeat shrouded the Warden Commander's features and his lips barely stretched into a smile as he scanned the room. Their eyes met and Aedan offered him the briefest of nods before moving his gaze to Leliana. Alistair felt a shiver travel down his spine at the look Aedan gave his wife. What had happened?

All the wardens and soldiers present rose to their feet and greeted their respective commanders with great enthusiasm. Oghren's voice rose in a gravelly yell and he started thumping backs as he learned about the addition to his family. Aedan's face broke into a smile as he congratulated the dwarf, but Alistair noted the smile failed to reach his eyes.

He waited patiently for his friend to work his way through the crowd of soldiers and wardens. As Aedan moved forward, Philippe, Luke and the rest of the north patrol came in to view. A new face appeared at the doorway, a dwarf. Philippe introduced him around, but Alistair did not catch the name. Kayley slipped through the doorway last, encumbered by a bulky basket. The cold shiver clutched at his sides as he realized Erald was missing. They had lost a warden. How?

Leliana had not waited so patiently. She handed Riordan to Brenna and began to shoulder her way through the crowd of men and women. She reached Luke first and drew her son into a close embrace and Alistair chuckled as he watched the boy stiffen then relent under her cascade of admonishments and kisses. Both faces shone with tears. She finally pulled back and set her hands on his shoulders and studied his face. Then she pushed him in Alistair's direction, telling him to sit and eat.

Aedan had made his way through the crowd and stood before him. Alistair put his arms out Aedan drew him into a crushing hug. The warrior's hugs were always fierce; he had become used to it. He grinned into an armoured shoulder.

"Brother." Aedan always greeted him this way and Alistair knew he meant it as more than an acknowledgement of their bond as wardens.

"Brother," Alistair answered. "We worried for you, and the north patrol. I can see all is not well."

Aedan shook his head wearily. "No, but I would not disturb this celebration with my news. Can we talk in the morning?"

Luke and Leliana made it back to their corner of the hall and Aedan turned immediately, as if he had sensed their approach. He regarded his wife for a single moment, his face completely unreadable before he raised a hand to her cheek, and then drew her into his arms. He kissed her, a kiss such as Alistair would never dare bestow upon Brenna in public, and Alistair took a step back.

Though well used to seeing Aedan openly express his love, and at times his desire, for his wife there was something different about his manner tonight. The warrior held Leliana as if he would never let her go. Something niggled at the corner of Alistair's mind. Something wasn't right. Luke brushed by him, leaning forward to take Riordan from Brenna's arms and Alistair felt it then. The odd feeling clicked into place and the horror of it caused his mouth to drop open in surprise.

Wardens could feel the taint in each other just as they could sense the darkspawn. Alistair now stared at Luke and the boy looked back at him, his eyes dark, and his expression anxious. Alistair grasped for it again, and there it was, clear as though it were marked upon his skin. Luke was a Grey Warden.

Alistair turned to Aedan and though his lips moved, no sound came out. In his mind the words sounded panicked and low: Holy Maker, Aedan, what have you done?


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

As he kissed his wife, Aedan almost lost his resolve. The familiar scent of her and the taste of her lips transported him to a place far away from the crowded dining room in Fort Drakon. If only he could hold onto this moment. He could feel her love and affection and the sweetness of her not knowing what he'd done. But the world intruded once more, finally, and he drew his lips from hers with reluctance.

When Leliana had caught her breath, she pulled herself back gently and looked at him, her expression fearful. "Aedan, what has happened?"

He could see in her eyes that she knew something was wrong. The thought of what had to come next caught up with him and he hardened his features rather than lose his control at this moment. Her eyes widened at his changed expression and she made to step away from his arms. He let her go but captured her hand.

"Leli," he murmured and paused. 'We need to talk' just didn't seem to cover it. He glanced desperately around the room looking for a safe haven.

Alistair came into view then and Aedan saw it immediately in the king's eyes. He knew. His chest constricted at the horrified and questing expression on Alistair's face. He drew in a shaky breath and when he spoke his voice was tight.

"Tomorrow, Alistair, please. I will explain everything tomorrow." Aedan glanced at Leliana. She looked back at him, the deep blue of her eyes holding near the same question as Alistair's had, though she did not yet know the reason.

"I have to talk to Leliana." His voice dropped low and it rasped.

Alistair nodded, mutely, and gestured as though giving him permission to leave.

Aedan moved through the crowd, tugging Leliana behind him by the hand. Many wardens dropped smiles and winks in their direction, incorrectly guessing where the commander led his wife. He caught Philippe's eye. His second's face held no expression at all. Though Aedan could appreciate that Philippe had worked to keep his features neutral, the lack of emotion chilled him. Then Philippe tipped his head in a slight nod. Aedan could not acknowledge it; he worked too hard on keeping his own emotions in check. He looked away.

The large room felt like a maze as Aedan navigated the tables and chairs to the exit. After they passed through the door he leaned against the wall gasped fresh air. Leliana's manner only became more concerned.

"Are you ill?" She touched his face softly and he shook his head.

A patrol rounded the corner and moved up the hall toward them. They nodded and greeted him. "Commander."

He nodded back and scanned the hallway. He saw the interior of the fort, stone floors and door-lined walls. He remembered a small sitting room lay just around the corner and he led Leliana toward it. Once inside he began removing his armour. He wanted to hold her again, just one more time before he told her, and he wanted to be able to feel her properly in his arms.

"Aedan, if you think you can charm your way out of an explanation, you are sorely mistaken." Leliana had her arms crossed and she tapped her foot. Though fear still showed in her eyes she looked annoyed. "Is this about Luke?"

"Ugh." A wordless grunt escaped his mouth and his heart hammered and his fingers slipped on the straps as he tried to unbuckle one of his leg plates. He got it undone and with a shaking hand threw it aside.

"Of course I was upset, he didn't even leave a note! And when I found out you'd taken him to Orzammar, well… you didn't let him drink ale did you?" Her voice rose, whether due to fear or impatience for him to start explaining himself, likely a combination of both.

He shuddered and ground his teeth together, his face twisting into a grimace as he moved his hands to his other leg.

"Aedan, look at me." She grabbed his hand as he worked removed the final piece of plate. "Stop that and talk to me."

He didn't stop until he was free of it, his fingers slipping and catching on the buckle and the edge of the plate. He'd become fixated on the task now, as a way of delaying the inevitable. Her hand fell from his and she stepped back. He removed even his boots. When he looked up she stood there before him, her face so full of worry and fear. He stood up and reached for her and she moved warily into his arms. He pulled her close and sighed deeply into her hair. He could feel her now, through his clothes, and he sought to calm himself. But his chest continued to tighten until he could barely draw breath.

She stepped back and took his hands. "You're scaring me, Aedan. What is wrong? I _was_ upset, yes, but I'm not anymore. You kept him safe you brought him back, just as I knew you would."

Could he cry now? Could he just slide down to the floor and cover his face with hands and give into the sadness and turmoil that roiled within? Surely Leliana would comfort him and tell him he'd done the right thing, the only thing. He looked down at her hands. He'd always loved the way her hands looked within his, so small and delicate. He squeezed them gently and took a deep breath.

"He wasn't safe with me, Leli. I couldn't keep him safe. I should have sent him back to Denerim with Runir. Oh, Leli, you should have seen his face when he saw Orzammar, he was so awed! And the Proving, he loved the Proving. I bought him a sword, his first proper sword. I did all the things a father should do, and then I left him alone!"

"Left him where?"

He didn't know how to tell her, he didn't know where to start! Should he tell her Luke was a Grey Warden and then tell why, or should he tell her how Luke had become tainted first? His ears were ringing again as he tried to decide which made more sense. He could feel his heart thumping against his ribs.

"I don't know how to tell you what happened!"

"Tell me what? He looks fine, he's filthy dirty, yes, and I'm sure he's not eaten a decent meal in days. But he's here and alive."

"I made him a Warden, Leli. Luke is a Grey Warden now." As if the floor had opened up beneath is feet, the room fell away. The silence, the awful silence as Leliana absorbed his words echoed about the space.

She pulled her hands from his and brought them to her mouth, her eyes wide.

"A Warden? But why? Oh, Aedan, how could you?"

He stepped forward in an attempt to take her hands again, but she stepped back, away from him. His head ached and he reached to rub at the scar etched into his forehead.

"Why would you do such a thing, he's barely sixteen!" Her eyes flashed with anger and horror, her cheeks flushing with colour.

He reached for her again and she slapped his hands away. It hurt. She'd barely touched him, but it felt like she'd knocked the breath from his lungs. He gasped and withdrew his hands.

"I'm so angry with you! We talked about this. Why now? Was this part of your father-son bonding?"

"I had no choice, Leliana."

She took a deep breath, as if to begin anew, but could only make an annoyed sound. "Oh!" She tangled her fingers together so tightly her knuckles whitened.

"I don't believe you! I never thought you would go behind my back like this. I thought we felt the same way!" She yelled, her tone conveying anger and a sense of betrayal.

"I had to make him a Warden or…" Her face, oh Maker, her face! She looked different, bitter, angry, yes, but something more. As if another woman had suddenly appeared before him, one he did not know.

"I trusted you, Aedan! I fail to understand why you would do such a thing!"

He heard only two words: Trust and fail. Her expression had hardened, her eyes flashed with a fury so cold. Her small mouth set. She had never shouted at him like this before!

"I'm sorry, I'll never stop being sorry." He shivered with cold then, his fingertips oddly numb. "I have failed you both." He couldn't shake the feeling that he'd said something final then. As though she'd slapped at him again, he felt it on his cheek, the sharp bite of it. He had failed in the duty he always held so close to his heart. Now Leliana looked at him so oddly, as if she no longer knew him.

He'd expected tears and anger, but not this oddness, this coldness, this woman he didn't recognise. He stepped back suddenly feeling like the room had begun to shrink in around him. He turned, he walked to the door.

"Aedan, where are you going? We are not finished here!"

He had failed his family. A warden shouldn't have a family. He'd told Luke that, and if he could laugh at his words, he would. Who was he to give advice like that? He shook his head, at Leliana, at himself. He didn't know how to make it work anymore. He left the room.

Why did his ears buzz when he was upset? He hit the side of his head absently with his hand as he ran down the hallway, his bare feet slapping against the stone floor. He heard her call out behind him, but still he ran. He became overwhelmed with the need to get away, to finally just run away. He wanted to leave it all behind, the worries, the hurt, the decisions, the responsibilities and the ever present duty. He was done. No more!

He ran faster. He'd never run from anything before. In his whole short life, his mere twenty-six years, he had faced up to everything the Maker had set before him. He'd done unspeakable things, many of which still haunted his dreams. The entire march to Denerim he had sweated out this conversation, what had turned into a confrontation, with Leliana, this final will breaking act. He'd expected her anger and her pain, but the reality of it hurt too much. He didn't want to do it anymore.

As he ran the air felt cool across his cheeks and he realized the tears had finally come. He gasped for a breath and his throat tightened. He grimaced at the awful dragging sound that emerged. Still he ran. He felt it all dropping away from as he ran, he almost felt free. Why had he not done this before? He ran faster still, beginning to believe he could leave it all behind. He rounded a corner and slammed into something solid.

He bounced and landed on his back, momentarily winded. A hand grasped his forearm and pulled him to his feet and he looked into the face of a guard. The man recoiled from his expression and stammered, "Commander."

Without answering, Aedan shoved past him and ran on. He followed his feet along hallways and up stairs until finally he leaned against the heavy wooden doors to the roof. He pushed them open and staggered out into the starlit night, the sudden chill of the evening air shocking him into stillness.

"Aedan, stop, please don't run away." Her voice was breathless and thin against the wide open plateau of stone.

He choked on a sob, but didn't answer her. He sank down against the wall and drew his knees up and hid his head between them. If he couldn't run, he'd hide.

She fell to her knees beside him and he could hear the anguish in her tone. "You have to tell me why you would do such an awful thing."

Why had she followed him? He'd just wanted to get away and she'd followed him. With a sinking in his gut he realised the futility of his flight. If Leliana hadn't followed him, surely someone, something else would.

"Why did you follow me?" He didn't say it very loud and his words sounded muffled.

"I will always follow you, don't you know that?" Her hand dropped on his shoulder, a warm touch, and she spoke more gently though her voice thick with tears.

He spoke to his knees. "There was a village, they were all tainted. We had to kill them all, women and a child." His breath caught and he shook as he remembered the feel of that bony child's shoulders beneath his hands, how he had silenced its cries.

"I can't hear you." Her fingers gently lifted his chin. He did not meet her eyes.

"I left Luke at the camp, but they found him and they tainted him, Leli! He had to use his sword, his new sword. He killed two of them before the leader captured him. He would have died from the taint. I didn't want to do it, I hated doing it. If there had been any other way!" He would never forget holding Luke in his arms as the boy had struggled with the taint.

Leliana's breath caught and he looked up. Her cheeks were wet with tears and her deep blue eyes were so sad! Her anger had faded into grief and, though the sight of her distressed face pained him, she looked like the Leliana he remembered again.

"Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"I tried to, I didn't know how. I started in the wrong place. I was so scared to tell you, Leli, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

She leaned forward and reached over his knees, slipping her arms about him. "Oh, Aedan…" the rest of her words were lost in tears.

"I should have sent him back to Denerim, I'm sorry." He couldn't stop saying it, he put his arms around her and he whispered it to her hair, over and over, "I'm sorry, Leli, I'm so sorry."

She shook in his arms and he dropped his knees and lifted her into his lap so he could hold her closer. She cried into his chest with great gasping sobs, and he shared in her sorrow, letting her tears wash away all the pain and worry of the past few days. She needed him and he found it humbling that she would cling to him so. She needed his strength and comfort and he gave it to her selflessly. He'd give her all that remained of him if he could. His own soft tears were for many reasons, but mostly because she sat there, in his arms with her face buried in his chest and because it felt like she would stay.

When her shoulders stopped heaving, she pulled her face away from his shirt and rested her wet cheek against his.

He stroked her hair and drew in a soft breath to say it again. "I'm sorry."

"You cannot keep saying that for the rest of your life." She pulled her face back further so they could meet one another's eyes.

"But I will feel it forever."

"I know you will, my sweet Warden, just as you feel everything." She placed her hand over his heart and it felt warm through the damp linen of his shirt.

"It would be better for you that you _were_ a heartless warrior, but not for me. I know it hurts, my love, I feel it too." Her lip trembled.

She did, he'd felt her grief, it now stained his shirt. He pulled her into his arms once more and whispered, "I'm sorry."

She murmured into his shirt, "Are you ever going to say anything else?"

He thought a moment. "I love you, Leliana." He loved her so deeply and completely, though it would forever complicate his life. He could never give her up, or his children.

She hiccupped softly and snuggled against his chest. "I love you too, Aedan."

He rested his chin on her shoulder and they sat together until his legs numbed and they both began to shiver.

Though the party had all but ended many of the wardens and soldiers remained in the dining room. A pall of silence fell over the room as he and Leliana entered, hand in hand. As if all had been waiting for them, every face turned and he saw that they all knew. He drew in a deep breath and squared his shoulders, eyes seeking Alistair, Brenna and his children.

Alistair looked up and Aedan made his way over to him. The king stood and put a hand on his shoulder. "Luke told me somewhat, Aedan, Brother, I don't know what to say."

Aedan nodded. "Words fail at moments like this." He winced as the word 'fail' dropped from his lips. "We'll talk tomorrow, if that is alright. I want to take my family home."

Alistair returned the nod, dropped his hand and turned to shake Luke's shoulder gently. The boy had been slumped over the table, his head in his arms. Leliana sat next to him and when he lifted his head she took his face in both her hands and kissed his forehead. "Oh, Luke, I'm so sorry. I don't know what else to say, love, but I'm here for you."

Luke nodded, his eyes still clouded with sleep. He'd been quiet on the walk back to Denerim, but not unnaturally so. Aedan hadn't been sure if the boy was still absorbing his fate, or if with the nonchalance of youth, he'd already accepted it. Only time would tell.

Riordan still toddled about Brenna's legs. Brenna stood and slipped her arms about Leliana's shoulders and the two women hugged gently.

"Thank you for watching Rory."

"Anytime, Leliana, you know that." Brenna offered a sad, but sweet smile. Though she obviously knew Luke's fate, her expression held less horror than Alistair's. Aedan suspected king had yet to share the secrets of the Grey Wardens with his future queen…

Leliana stooped down to pick Riordan up, hugging him closely and dropping kisses all over his face. Aedan found himself smiling at the sight and with a simple clicking sensation his world began to feel right again. He was surrounded by his family. They were all together and right now, that was all that mattered. He wanted to wrap his arms around all of them at once and hug them close. He turned and saw the basket sitting on the next table. Kayley sat next to it, but she had succumbed to sleep, her head pillowed in her arms. Aedan walked over.

He slipped his hand beneath the braided handle and it settled familiarly into his palm. He'd carried her all the way to Denerim. He'd walked with one hand on his son's shoulder and the other wrapped about this basket.

"What do you have there, love?" Leliana looked into the basket.

"I forgot to tell you about her, Leli. We found a baby." He smiled down at the sleeping face and murmured, "I named her Grace."

"You found, you named…" Leliana looked at him, her eyes wide and incredulous. Then she laughed. She reached up and she kissed his cheek lightly, then dropped back to her heels and chuckled again.

"Only you, Aedan, only you could keep coming home with more children." She shook her head and looked into the basket again. She reached out a hand to stroke the soft pink cheek. "It's a beautiful name and one I think she will grow into well."

Aedan found himself grinning. He hefted the basket and settled his arm about Luke's shoulders once more. "Let's go home."


	16. Chapter 16

_I had planned for this to be the last chapter, but then I got all thoughtful and had a couple 'conversations' with my characters. Royal Wedding and Gifts tomorrow, folks!_

* * *

Chapter Sixteen

The inevitability of this conversation had not escaped him, but now? She wanted to do this now? Alistair growled softly in frustration and pulled Brenna off his lap. Her slight frame weighed little in his hands and he set her beside him on the couch. They were alone, at long last they were alone, and she wanted to know more about the Grey Wardens.

"You never talk much about being a warden, Alistair. I only ask because, well…" She trailed off. She didn't need to explain. She had seen his reaction to Luke and she had witnessed the news being spread throughout the dining room and the dampening effect it had had on all the wardens present.

"That's because I am no longer a Warden, I'm a King." Did his voice sound bitter? He'd tried to keep his tone even.

She caught it. "That's not true. I see how you look at the wardens and how they accept you as a brother. Do you miss it?"

"Let's see, living in a keep full of men, patrolling the highways and dodging wily darkspawn. Yes, yes I miss it every day!"

"Why do you always make silly jokes when you don't want to talk about something?"

Alistair quipped, "Because I don't want to talk about something?"

Brenna sighed and slipped off the couch. He caught her hand. "Where are you going, love?"

"You don't want to talk, so I'm going to bed."

Alistair battled the growing frustration he felt and worked to temper his tone. "No I don't want to talk. I had something else entirely in mind when I asked Runir to sleep in the sitting room tonight."

Brenna attempted a smile but it failed to reach her troubled eyes.

Alistair tugged gently on her hand and pulled her toward the couch so that she stood before him, her knees gently touching his. "Alright, Brenna, what do you want to know?"

Her eyes widened slightly before becoming thoughtful. "I want to know why everyone was so upset about Luke. I understand he's terribly young to have taken on such a vocation, but surely having a son who is a Grey Warden is something to be proud of?"

Alistair felt his shoulders slump though he'd not realised he'd been so tense. Dryness took his throat and it felt as if he couldn't swallow. "It's not an easy life, my love."

"Neither is being king, or a soldier, yet it's still a noble calling."

Alistair shivered at her inadvertent choice of words. He couldn't keep the sarcasm and bitterness out of his voice as he finally replied. "That's just it, Bren, in addition to all the other lovely things about being a warden, you don't have to worry about dying of old age. The taint is a death sentence, we get thirty years, give or take." He added more quietly, "When our time comes, that's what we call it: the Calling."

A variety of emotions passed over Brenna's face and he immediately regretted both his tone and his choice of words. He watched silently as she experienced horror, understanding and finally grief.

"So that means, you are, you have, you will…" She couldn't get the words out and Alistair reached for her waist and pulled her back into his lap. She leaned into his chest and he wrapped his arms about her back feeling her tremble as cried quietly into his shirt.

When they had been fighting the Blight, thirty years had seemed such a long time. The companions had been thankful for each and every day. But now, holding his love in his arms, thirty years felt like a cruel joke. He likely only had twenty six left, if that. He might not live long enough to see any child they had grow to adulthood.

His shirt clung wetly to his skin when she finally stopped crying and turned to rest her cheek upon his shoulder instead, taking in shaky little breaths. He patted her hair and resisted the urge to say, 'Thirty years is a long time, I might be run over by a wagon in the morning!' He knew his humour would not be appreciated right now, but that very thought got him out of bed nearly every day. He refused to dwell upon the future and tried to live each day as if it were his last.

When she spoke her voice held a quiet restraint. "Why doesn't everyone know this? It's so tragic!"

Alistair couldn't help himself. "How many recruits do you think we'd get with a campaign slogan like that?"

She sighed. "I suppose you're right. There are some noble fools out there, but not nearly enough."

"Brenna, thirty years is a long time, and I get to spend them with you. I'm the happiest man in Ferelden."

Her breath caught in a small sob.

"What, what did I say now?"

"Happy tears, Alistair, these are happy tears."

He kissed her wet cheek and then settling her light weight in his arms he stood and carried her to the bed.

"I thought you had something other than sleep in mind," Brenna murmured softly against his shoulder.

"Oh, I do, but I thought we might be more comfortable over here."

--=0=--

Aedan opened his eyes and winced. Leliana always opened the curtains as soon as she awoke; she loved the early morning light. He might not have minded had they not stayed up so late talking. After settling the children for the night he'd found her sitting on the bed with her knees drawn up, her face awash with tears once more. Though he hadn't expected that she'd be all happy smiles the moment they'd left the roof, he'd not really expected tears again quite so soon.

He sat beside her and put an arm about her shoulders. He didn't say anything for a moment, the ready apology no longer sufficient or appropriate. She didn't need to hear how sorry he felt. He kissed her hair and murmured her name instead.

"Aedan you hurt me so much tonight."

Her words hit him in the gut and he drew in a deep breath. He didn't really want to talk about it anymore, he wanted to feel the comfort of her arms and hear her sleepy breath next to his. He wanted to escape into his dreams. "Leli, if there had been any other way."

"I'm not talking about Luke, I'm talking about you. You ran away from me. I never thought you would do that. I always count on you to be the strong one."

His brief bid for freedom shamed him in retrospect. He let out a gusty sigh and steeled his nerve. He would meet this one head on. "Quite possibly the most cowardly thing I have ever done. I didn't run from you, specifically, Leli, more from my life as a whole. Who would have thought killing an archdemon would _not_ be the hardest thing I'd ever have to do. This whole thing with Luke has made me question being a Grey Warden and it's not the first time."

Leliana looked at him, her eyes filled with understanding. "As I questioned being a bard. You know, no matter how far you run you will still be a Grey Warden."

Her hurt suddenly made more sense. Leliana had run away and ultimately it had not solved her problems. She had found peace, for a while, but her life had eventually caught up with her.

He wrapped both his arms about her then and hugged her gently. "I didn't choose to be a Warden, Leli, but you're right and I understand your point, I can't run away from it." He sighed again. "I'm not as strong as you think I am, my love, I keep flailing away at life and making huge mistakes."

"Such is life; there is no other way to say it. We're stronger when face it together." Her voice, normally so clear, so bright took on a slight tremble as she continued. "Promise me you will not run from me, ever. We have exchanged vows and we made a child together. You gave me your heart, Aedan, and you made me feel safe, like I had finally found a home. The thought that you could just leave us behind…"

He kissed her then, stopping her words. He tasted her tears and knew he'd caused them. He would not apologise, she did not need to hear again how sorry he felt. He drew his lips from hers and whispered against her mouth, "I promise."

A tear drifted down his cheek as he lay there in the early morning light and he didn't know if it came from the memory of the night before or the brightness of the dawn. He blinked it away and got out of bed. He found a note from Leliana, she had taken the children to breakfast and Luke had gone to the fort. He would go to the fort, he needed exercise – and he'd left his armour there last night, scattered about one of those small sitting rooms.

Many of the wardens were already in the practice yard when he arrived, and he recognised Alistair's practice armour. The king sparred with Rolf and the bout had become quite the spectacle. As warriors who both favoured a sword and shield they were fairly evenly matched. Luke had his sword in hand and practiced forms with Runir. He caught his son's attention and his heart lifted at Luke's sunny smile of greeting.

"Commander?" A nervous young warden stood beside Aedan and his arms where filled with his Warden Commander armor. Another man stood close by with his boots and weapons. Aedan tried to keep his expression neutral, but couldn't help the slight smile that worked across his face as he wondered what they had thought when they found all of his belongings in that room. He thanked them and set about donning his gear.

He warmed up with Runir and moved through several matches with his men, finding peace and purpose in the exercise. He looked up at a tap on the shoulder and found Alistair standing beside him.

"Care for a match, Commander?"

He grinned at his friend. "Of course, your Majesty."

He'd not fought against Alistair in some time and as he took his stance he ran through what he remembered of the templar's style and tricks. As usual, Alistair waited for him to make the first move, and he did, but instead of stepping straight in, he feinted left and struck with his right only to find himself expertly blocked.

"You've been practicing with Runir."

The king nodded. "Yes I have."

Alistair had always been more than competent, his reputation well deserved, but he had become stronger, more confident and neither of them scored a point for several long minutes as they struck and parried with precision.

Both of them were fatigued from their practice and no doubt from the evening before, however, and after a couple of rounds Alistair called the match and offered Aedan his hand. Aedan grasped his friend's arm and then pulled him into a loose hug and they thumped each other fondly on the back, their armour clanging noisily. They laughed.

"So, you want to talk about Luke?" Alistair asked as they sat together on a bench.

"Not really."

Aedan looked at Alistair and saw an expression so familiar he chuckled. The way he could quirk that one left brow never failed to amuse him.

"Alright, what do you want to know?"

Alistair placed a gauntleted hand on his forearm. "I want to know if you are alright. You, Luke and Leliana."

Aedan considered Alistair's face, the warmth and concern in the king's hazel eyes and he nodded firmly. "Yes, Brother, we are."

Alistair seemed about to say something else when an excited murmur from the entrance had them both turning around. The crowd parted and Oghren swaggered through looking both proud and cocky. The dwarf strutted toward them, stopped, planted his hands on his hips and said, "Yep, I still got it."

"How fare Felsi and the babe?"

"Perfect, Warden, just perfect! I predict the nug runner will be carryin' a sword within the year. He'll do his farther proud!"

Aedan exchanged a glance with Alistair and they both grinned. Oghren's exuberance was infectious and they found themselves on their feet clapping the dwarf's shoulders once again in congratulations.

"What will you name this proud warrior of yours, Oghren?" Alistair's expression bubbled with curiosity.

Oghren's eyes settled on Aedan and he smiled broadly, "Well, Warden, I thought I might name him after you."

"You're going to call him Warden?"

Oghren's eyes narrowed. "By the stone, why would I do a stupid thing like that? Nah, Aedan is much better!"

Aedan blinked in surprise. "So you do know my name after all."

Alistair and Oghren looked at him blankly and Aedan chuckled and spread his hands. "Can I ask why?" Though touched by the gesture, he felt a little embarrassed.

"Heh, well, if it weren't for you, I might never have won Felsi back for a start." The dwarf's expression softened a little as he continued more quietly. "And because you're a good sort, brave and all that. Argh, does there have to be a reason? We're friends, Warden. You believed in me and trusted me when many wouldn't. You set me on my feet and brought me here." He gestured the fort around them.

Aedan nodded slowly. He'd had no idea Oghren regarded him so highly, the dwarf usually spouted jokes and insults, not platitudes.

"Then I am truly honoured, Oghren. Thank you."

Oghren growled softly, waved a hand and turned his gaze on Alistair. "Don't you worry, your Majesty, next one's gonna be named after you!"

Aedan couldn't suppress the absurd thought of two little dwarves running about called Warden and Majesty and he snorted in amusement.

Alistair commented drily, "Just what Ferelden needs, two more of us."

As they shared a smile at that Aedan caught sight of a familiar white-blonde head and the smile dropped from his face.

"Come, it wouldn't be that bad, would it?" Alistair asked and Aedan tapped him on the arm and said, "No, it's Zevran, he has returned."

The elf looked like a different man. His eyes lacked their usual warmth and luster and his mouth formed a hard line were usually he held an easy smile. The yard slowly fell silent, voices ceased and the ring of steel stopped as Zevran made his way through the soldiers and wardens to where they stood.

He held a box in his arms. He bowed his head and said formally, "your Majesty."

Alistair's brow creased with concern and he stepped forward to lay a hand on Zevran's shoulder. He looked him up and down. "You are returned and alive, Zevran. Thank the Maker."

"I see you are alive as well, Alistair." Zevran glanced over Alistair's shoulder and exchanged what could only be described as a professional nod with Runir.

Silence fell then, there were too many questions that begged to be asked at once, but everyone's eyes were on the box. Zevran ignored the direction of their gaze for the moment and asked a question of his own. "The other assassins, were they caught?"

"Yes and one of them turned out to be quite talkative." Alistair answered.

Zevran nodded quietly, "That would have been Kusin. A mage, yes?"

"Yes."

"You dealt with them all I trust?" Zevran's tone made it abundantly clear what he meant by 'dealt'.

Alistair answered in the affirmative once again.

"Then this business is done with, Alistair." He handed the king the box. "Perhaps this is not the most appropriate of wedding gifts, but I think it will serve. I wouldn't share it with your new wife however."

Zevran turned and started to walk away. Aedan stepped to the elf's side and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Zev, wait."

Zevran turned reluctantly and his eyes were clouded with weariness, the sort that could not be cured by simple sleep.

There were still so many questions but Aedan decided they were better suited to another time. "Thank you, Zevran. Ferelden owes you a great debt of gratitude."

Zevran merely inclined his head and then something, someone caught his eye and for the first time since he'd stepped through the gates warmth touched his expression. Aedan turned. Kayley stood behind him. He gestured her over then turned back toward Zevran.

"It gladdens my heart to see you returned safe, Zev. We'll talk later?"

The warmth did not fade from Zevran's eyes as he returned his gaze to Aedan's face and the elf gripped his arm. "As you wish, Aedan." Then he offered a tentative smile. "It is good to see you too."

"Commander?" Kayley stood there nervously clasping her hands.

"I'm assigning you to Zevran for the rest of the day, Warden. I don't want to see either of you until tomorrow, understand?"

Kayley flushed and grinned. "Yes, Commander."

He waved them off and returned to find Alistair still holding the box. He had yet to open it. Alistair looked up as he approached. "You know, normally I love presents, but I _really_ don't want to open this box."

Aedan shared his apprehension. Oghren took the box from Alistair's arms and set it on the ground. He plucked a practice sword from the rack behind them and used it to pry open the nails set around the lid. He opened it and swore softly. "By the ancestors."

Oghren stepped back and Aedan leaned forward and peered into the box. There nestled in straw lay a remarkably well preserved head. Aedan swallowed to keep from gagging and turned away from the sight.

Alistair leaned over and took a look. "Wow, remind me never to get on the wrong side of Zevran."

The king looked a little pale as he straightened. He looked at Aedan and seemed momentarily lost for words. Finally he spoke. "I don't think I wanted to believe she would betray Ferelden like that, Aedan. I kept hoping Zevran would find out someone else was responsible."

Aedan nodded, he'd had a similar thought. "Perhaps exile made her more bitter. I'm sorry I talked you into that decision, Alistair, truly I am."

"No, at the time your words made sense, Aedan. If anything, Loghain is to blame for this and he has already been punished. Either way, it is done. Anora will trouble us no longer."


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

Brenna's face held a pensive expression when he glanced at her. Alistair nudged her quietly and whispered, "Smile, love, you're supposed to look happy today."

He brushed her cheek with his lips and an appreciative noise rippled through the assembled crowd that stood at the foot of the stairs to the palace.

"You are happy today, right?"

She turned her head quickly, her expression contrite. "Yes, I am, I really am. It's just all these crowds, Alistair. Aren't you worried about assassins?"

"No." He answered firmly. "Nothing is going to spoil my wedding day."

Alistair took Brenna's hand and the city of Denerim cheered the royal couple. The Chantry bells had been ringing all morning, a joyous sound that faded beneath the combined voices of the gathered crowd. He gazed out over all the fresh scrubbed faces and felt a tug of pride toward his kingdom. Every stone of the city appeared to have been polished. Windows displayed boxes of flowers and doors had been newly painted. Ribbons and garlands festooned rooflines. He found it hard to believe this was the same city that had suffered such devastation at the end of the Blight. He took an experimental sniff. Though he'd never thought Ferelden smelled like wet dog, he did have to admit the weather did tend towards…damp. But he detected nothing but the tang of mulched leaves, fresh flowers and the scent of his betrothed.

Alistair moved his eyes from the city to his betrothed. There were no words to describe how beautiful she looked in her gown and he to content himself with simply gazing adoringly and admiringly at her. She correctly interpreted the look, thank the Maker. Soon they would be husband and wife and Ferelden would have a new queen. If his heart filled anymore it would burst. While that certainly would make his wedding day memorable, it would be highly inconvenient. Dragging his thoughts from the absurd, he took a deep breath and practiced his templar focus while maintaining his smile.

"Alistair, it's time." Leliana's clear voice, though soft, carried above the clamour rising from below the palace and he turned toward his chancellor. She and Aedan were beaming at him and she had a hand at his elbow, indicating it they should move inside the Landsmeet Chamber for the ceremony.

The chamber looked just as it had the day he'd been crowned king and Alistair felt the memories of that day and the past two years stirring as he led Brenna through the assembled nobles to the dais where the Reverend Mother waited. Isolde stood alone toward the front and Alistair nodded quietly to her, hoping the brief gesture acknowledged not only her presence, but the absence of Eamon.

The ceremony, while lengthy, seemed to pass in a blur and Alistair required a poke from Aedan to find his voice when it came time to exchange vows. He'd been staring at Brenna, lost in her eyes, and had not heard the Reverend Mother clear her throat, twice.

Vows done with, Alistair kissed his new wife and a wave of dizziness made his vision swim briefly. A combination of the 'moment' and a skipped breakfast that morning, no doubt.

After the brief formality of confirming Brenna's appointment as Queen with the Landsmeet, the next ceremony began and the Reverend Mother placed a delicate circlet over Brenna's dark hair. Alistair swallowed his relief at seeing the circlet had been finished in time. He'd ordered it only two and a half weeks before after ordering Anora's destroyed. The thought of a traitor's crown resting on his wife's head had been too awful to contemplate. Though eyebrows had been raised and eyes had questioned, the work had been done, swiftly and remarkably well. One of the perks of being King.

He took her hand and together they turned to face the Landsmeet. The nobles cheered and a uniform joy shone from every face. Even those who had not been entirely enthusiastic over his coronation seemed to have mellowed. Arl Wulf wiped a tear from his eyes and stepped to his daughter's side, enclosing her in a tight hug and then grasped Alistair's arm. Brenna's mother dipped him a curtsey. A very quiet and shy woman, her looks hinted at what Brenna might look like in thirty years. Arl Wulf took his wife's arm and escorted her away.

"Are you numb yet?"

Alistair turned toward Aedan and smiled. "Dizzy, hungry," he tested his fingers and toes, "and yes, I do believe I am starting to feel numb."

Aedan clasped him in a strong hug. "I'm so happy for you, Brother."

"Why didn't you tell me it felt like this?" Alistair started to feel the sting of what Brenna would call happy tears and he sniffed as inconspicuously as possible.

Aedan raised a brow and a mischievous glint entered his eyes. "You never asked?"

Alistair aimed a playful punch at his friend's arm. "You've been waiting a long time to use that line on me, haven't you?"

"Indeed I have. To answer your question, you and I don't generally sit around and have mushy conversations. Warriors don't, as a rule, much to Leliana's never ending despair." Aedan glanced at his wife, his love for her clear in his eyes. He continued in a softer tone. "It's just not something that can be put into words, Alistair, this thing between a husband and a wife. It's another gift from the Maker and one we are lucky to share."

Leliana saved them from their very un-warrior-like moment by stepping up to claim her hug from Alistair. Besides Aedan, his chancellor counted as his closest friend. He patted her back fondly before letting her go and she took his hands and shook her head, uncharacteristically lost for words. Then she kissed his cheek and said simply, "Congratulations."

"Thank you, Leliana." Alistair knew he'd be saying those words repeatedly over the course of the day and tried to convey the genuine warmth he felt with his smile.

Aedan slipped an arm about his wife's waist and led her away.

The next hour stretched into an endless parade of greetings, congratulations and gratitude as one by one Ferelden's nobility stepped forward. Brenna's face had paled a little and his smile has started to hurt when finally they exchanged a look of relief. He took her hands and they laughed together at their mirrored expressions.

"I wish we could just sneak away. Can you imagine the looks on their faces if we missed the banquet?" His stomach rumbled.

Brenna laughed and stretched up to kiss his cheek. "Come on, let's feed you before you pass out. This day is for all Ferelden. We'll have the rest of our lives together, my love." A brief shadow passed her eyes as she spoke the words only to be quickly replaced by warmth and humour.

The banquet held in honor of his nuptials required the largest dining room in the palace. They had never used this room in the two years he had been king and Alistair gazed about the cavernous space in wonderment. What had they had in mind when they designed such a large space? Even crowded with all of Ferelden's nobility the room still echoed. It would be the perfect place in which to host ball, he decided, like those Celene had described for Brenna.

Though probably the most lavish occasion Denerim had hosted since the wedding of Cailan and Anora, Alistair found himself relieved that the empress had departed before his wedding. He smiled as he imagined the reaction of the Orlesian nobility to his assembled guests. Nearly a quarter of the long, long table was occupied by Grey Wardens, including a dwarf and three elves. And of course there was Oghren who had obviously indulged before the banquet and now entertained startled nobles with belches and lewd remarks.

Alistair took Brenna's hand and leaned over to whisper quietly to her. "You know, it's true we do things a little differently here in Ferelden, but I don't necessarily think that's such a bad thing!"

Leliana giggled merrily from her seat beside Aedan and leaned across her husband to whisper, "I heard that, Alistair."

After their collection of chuckles and snickers Brenna whispered, "I don't think we're supposed to be snickering up here, we're getting odd looks from some of the nobility."

The meal concluded and Leliana rose from her seat to call for the attention of the assembled guests. Time for speeches and gifts! Alistair looked forward to neither, really, the first would likely drag on and the second would require yet more gratitude and kind words. Not that he didn't enjoy gifts, or appreciate the time and thought that went into the words of praise, he just wanted to escape this day and spend time with his new wife.

Philippe stood first and two of the wardens disappeared only to return two minutes later, their arms laden with shiny new armour. Grey Warden armour. Alistair took a deep breath, an expression of confusion sweeping across his face. Philippe cleared his throat.

"Though you may never use this armour, Alistair, and Maker pray you never have to, this is our gift to you. It is to remind you that you will always be our Brother."

"Philippe, thank you hardly seems appropriate, but thank you, this is a most thoughtful and unexpected gift." Alistair grasped Philippe's arm and the senior warden clapped him on the shoulder.

Alistair did not miss the few raised eyebrows among the seated nobles as he turned his attention to Oghren who stood next. Aedan laughed as a familiar bottle appeared on the table and Alistair groaned deeply and shook his head. Oghren looked slightly hurt as he regarded the bottle fondly. "Well I can always drink it for ya, you pansy."

Another round of raised eyebrows from the nobles made Aedan laugh harder and Alistair fought to keep his composure. Yes, it was a good thing Celene had departed early.

Zevran gifted them with a pair of matching rings he'd had inscribed with their names and the date of their wedding. They were exquisite and of course, sized perfectly. They put them on immediately and the rogue submitted himself to their hugs of gratitude with good grace. His manner had been unusually subdued since his return from Antiva and Alistair hoped he would have the chance to talk to him properly soon.

The speeches and gift giving proceeded more soberly after that as the nobles all paid their respects. Finally only Leliana and Aedan were left.

Leliana gave Brenna a harp. It was a beautiful instrument and Brenna wept at the sight of it. She loved to hear the bard play and had begged for lessons. Leliana had indulged her and the time spent together had only strengthened the friendship between the two women.

Leliana said only a few words, her trained voice reaching all corners of the room. She made an effective chancellor for many reasons, but her ability to command attention without striving for it numbered among his favourites. People listened when she spoke.

"Alistair, Brenna, may you always be as happy as you are today," she concluded and sat down.

Aedan rose next and cleared his throat. He smiled at Alistair and spoke to him directly instead of addressing the banquet as a whole. "I don't have a title and lands to give you, Alistair, though you know you're always welcome to one of mine. But you are my friend and my cherished Brother and that is a worthy title, is it not?" He paused and glanced at his wife, taking her hand before continuing. "This is a happy day for Ferelden, certainly, but happier for me as now you share in what I have already found. But I do have a gift for you, something other than my ramblings."

Oghren had walked the length of the table with a long package and at a gesture from Aedan handed it to Alistair. The box had a significant weight to it and Alistair guessed from the shape it might be a sword. He put it on the table and pulled away the lid. Maric's sword lay nestled next to its sheath, both cushioned by soft velvet. He had seen Aedan plunge this sword into the archdemon and he'd seen the sword afterwards. The hilt had softened and the blade had been blackened, the runes completely burnt out. He looked up at his friend. "How?"

Oghren answered for him. "There is nothing dwarven ingenuity can't fix, your Majesty!'

Alistair smiled at his Commander and thanked him for his part in the gift.

Alistair took his turn at making a speech. He said only a few words, thanking everyone for their attendance and wishing all of them well. He took Brenna's hand last and raised her to her feet beside him. "Thank you, Brenna, for agreeing to be a part of all this."

She blushed prettily and he kissed her. Applause swept up and down the table and everyone rose to their feet to give one more cheer for their king and queen.

Everyone sat down again and he turned to Aedan. "You went back to the roof for the sword? I had thought it lost."

"As did I. I found it by chance, Alistair. I had gone to the roof to escape Wynne and Taren and wandered over to the spot where I landed after the explosion. The sword was there, along with my helm." Aedan shrugged lightly. "I didn't know if it could be restored, but I wanted to try. Garin worked on it for over a year. Now something of your father is with you on your wedding day." Aedan put a hand on his shoulder and smiled. "Besides, it's a king's sword. You should carry a king's sword, not some old relic I pulled from a skeleton in the Deep Roads."

"As you well know, I am proud to wield 'the relic', it is a fine sword. But this, Aedan," Alistair ran his fingers long the blade reverently. "This is stunning. I will treasure it as something from my father and my brother."

Aedan nodded. "Good."

They exchanged a long look before both men blinked and looked away. Alistair gazed at the blade and marshaled his thoughts. He had come a long way from the bastard who had been shipped off to the chantry at age ten. Though he had lost much, he refused to dwell on the past and considered instead all he had gained. He had a family. He had a man to call brother and now he had a wife. Alistair blinked rapidly again, cursing Brenna's happy tears, and reached for her hand.

--=0=--

Aedan clasped Leliana's hand, entwining his fingers with hers. They gazed down at the two sleeping children. Riordan did not seem to mind sharing his crib with Grace and the pair looked quite sweet together, he dark and she light. Though they'd never be sure of Grace's exact age, Leliana guessed about six months. They'd chosen a date to use for her birthday when they had registered her adoption papers with the chantry the day before. Another advantage of having the king's chancellor for a wife: speedy paperwork and little red tape. Aedan pressed a kiss to Leliana's temple and she leaned gently into him a moment before tugging on his fingers and pulling him from the darkened room.

They flopped onto the couch together, and Aedan laughed as they both nearly deflated with a gusty sigh.

"Though I know you'd be a wonderful queen, tell me you are grateful we're not royal."

Leliana nodded quickly. "I'm grateful, my love, believe me. What a day!" She grinned slyly at him before continuing, "It's a good thing they've already shared a bed, they'll be too tired to do anything other than sleep tonight!"

Aedan raised a brow. "Are you trying to tell me you are tired?"

Leliana pushed his shoulder softly. "You are incorrigible, Aedan."

He winked in reply.

"I couldn't help but remember our wedding today, it's hard to believe it's only been a year and a half, and already we have three children! You won't be bringing home any more babies soon, I hope."

Aedan chuckled and put his arm around her, pulling her against his side so that her head rested on his shoulder. "I sincerely hope not."

"I hope they are blessed with a child of their own soon," Leliana said wistfully. "We are so lucky to have Riordan."

"That sort of pressure makes my whining about being Warden Commander pale in comparison, doesn't it?"

"Aedan, you don't whine, you growl."

Aedan growled softly in response and she laughed.

"Alistair seemed very touched by your gift, Aedan. The sword was beautiful, by the way. Garin did a wonderful job."

Aedan remembered something then, a gift he had bought for Leliana and he loosened his hold on her, sitting forward on the couch. "Wait here," he said and went to rummage inside his pack.

The wrapping had torn and looked a little grimy and he grimaced at it before turning around. Leliana still sat on the couch and he took a moment to appreciate her beauty. They were both still in their formal attire, though he'd loosened his shirt buttons at the first opportunity. Leliana's dress was gorgeous.

"You look beautiful, love, just as you did on our wedding day."

Leliana smiled and held her hands out to him and Aedan walked back to the couch and sat next to her again. He kissed her softly before murmuring, "I love you."

"I love you too, Aedan." She smiled and then looked pointedly at the scruffy little package in his hands.

Aedan felt a twinge of nervousness. He'd given Leliana gifts before, but never anything like this. He'd given her flowers, a pet, boots, weapons, and trinkets he'd found along road. Sweet and practical things and she'd loved them all. But he'd never given her jewelry before. She wore only the amulet Alistair had gifted them with at their wedding.

A flush took his cheeks as he spoke. "I never gave you a gift at our wedding, Leli." He frowned. "And I always give you such practical things. I had this made for you in Orzammar as well, um, I hope you like it." He thrust the bundle of wrapping at her.

He watched as she removed the folded paper to find a velvet pouch. She reached two fingers inside and pulled out a gold bracelet. The surface had been polished to a high gloss and inlaid along the gold were little silver flowers, Andraste's Grace. She sat with it in her fingers, not saying a word and Aedan's heart fell. She doesn't like it, he thought and he bit his lip.

When she turned to look at him, her eyes were filled with tears. "Aedan, it's the most beautiful thing you've ever given me. Thank you."

He smiled in relief and joy and hugged her tightly. "You like it then, it's alright?"

"I love it." She slipped it on her wrist and they both admired how the gold looked against her creamy skin.

Aedan lifted her hand and kissed it, and then kissed her lips again. He drew back and murmured softly, "So, are you still tired?"

She laughed. "No, my sweet warden, I'm not tired, let's go to bed."

The End.

_I am going to change the name of this story to simply 'Gifts'. Though I always intended it to be about gifts of all sorts, the working title Wedding Gift kind of stuck! If you made it this far, thank you for reading my story! I hope you had as good a time as I did. This was a much slower story than 'Hero' and included a lot more dialogue and emotion I think, which isn't what I originally intended. I didn't set out to write seventeen chapters, either. I do tend to get carried away…_

_Thanks again for all the kind comments and reviews throughout!_


End file.
